The Prince and the Professor
by the-supreme-mugwump
Summary: Severus begins his sixth year as a pariah. His ex-best friend won't even look at him, and his new group of 'friends' aren't much better. What's more, the new Defence professor - a strange man, with dark, untidy hair and a scar – just won't leave him alone. One thing's for sure: It was never meant to turn out this way...
1. Prologue

_**Department of Mysteries Incident Report Number 175,304  
Officer on Duty: B. Bode.  
Date of Writing: 8th of August, 1976.**_

_The contents of this report detail the events that occurred on the night of the 30th of July, 1976._

_On the night in question, I, Broderick Bode, was undertaking my usual rounds through Chamber 7. At approximately 23:03, I observed a strange light emanating from the artefact known alternatively as the Portal, the Veil or Charon's Gateway._

_Upon the observance of this strange phenomenon (which resembled lightning, or some other kind of electrical disturbance), I immediately called for assistance, and was joined shortly by Unspeakables A. Rookwood and C. Croaker. After observing the Portal for approximately fifty-seven minutes, during which the 'lightning' became more frequent and powerful, my colleagues and I were knocked backwards by a blast of intense magical energy._

_Upon regaining our senses, we were confronted by a lone figure._

_He was of above average height, middle aged (appearing approximately 40-50 years), with grey hair (chin-length) and full beard (auburn). The right-side of his face had been badly disfigured by some dark curse, and it appears that he is semi-blind in one eye as a result of this (his right eye being coloured milky-white). Upon ejection from the veil, the subject was naked (he was provided with plain robes – see Appendix 3). He appeared badly malnourished, and his feet were blistered and dirty, as though he had been walking for several days._

_The subject fell unconscious upon arrival in Chamber 7, and was immediately relegated to secure custody._

_Upon being awoken, the subject seemed confused and liable to violence. Considering this, and the unorthodox manner of his arrival, the Unspeakables considered it necessary to restrain him._

_The initial transcript of our conversation can be found in Appendix 1, though it is rather nonsensical. The subject was unable to hold a single line of conversation for more than a few moments, and became distressed when we refused his demands or were unable to answer his questions._

_In light of the new Ministry regulations (See Appendix 2), it was at this point that we summoned Auror Alastor Moody from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (although it was clear to me that a mere Auror would not be able to add substantial understanding to our study, and that his inclusion could have in fact damaged proceedings)._

* * *

Alastor Moody took a swig from his hip-flask. The cells in the depths of the Ministry were dark and oppressive, and the atmosphere did not improve his already foul mood.

"I just don't understand what you expect me to do, Augustus," he said.

"It's just formal policy," said Rookwood, silkily. "These new regulations are Crouch's doing, so if you've got a problem, complain to him, not me. All it says here is that you need to conduct a formal interview with the suspect, since technically he was trespassing upon Ministry premises."

The two of them looked up, at the man chained to the chair on the opposite side of the oaken table.

The prisoner stared at his knees. Since Moody had entered the room, he had done nothing but mutter quietly to himself, gently rocking backwards and forwards. Moody lent forward slightly to try and make out the words, although not too far forward. He was fond of his ears, and didn't want one of them to get bitten off by a gibbering madman of questionable origin.

"Right," he said, with a sinking sensation that what he was about to do was utterly pointless. He thought about the pile of reports lying uncompleted on his desk, four floors above, and rubbed his forehead. He was unlikely to get home before dawn. "Do you know who I am?"

The man gave no sign that he had heard Moody, continuing to stare at the floor. He was dribbling, Alastor noticed with a sense of disgust. He turned to Rookwood.

"What'll happen to him, after the interrogation's over?" he asked.

"Don't worry about that," said Rookwood, with a crooked smile. "We have uses for people like him."

Moody resisted the urge to shudder. He was struck - not for the first time - by the thought that he didn't much like Rookwood. The man was popular within the Ministry, but something about his manner - some indefinable oddness - put Moody's teeth on edge. He squared his shoulders, and tried again. He might as well do the damned thing properly.

"My name is Alastor Moody, and I'm from the Office of Magical Law Enforcement," he said. "You are currently under arrest for trespass in the Ministry of Magic, though that status is liable to change. I'd read you your rights, but you don't have any. Sorry about that."

Rookwood gave a derisive snort. "I'm off to get a coffee," he said. "Call me if anything interesting happens. It'll be on the recording, anyway."

The latch clicked shut behind him. Moody's eyes travelled from the closed door back to the prisoner.

Very slowly, the man raised his head. He'd stopped muttering, and his sudden gaze was deeply unsettling. His right eye had been badly damaged by whatever curse had ravaged his face, and had turned milky-white. Moody was suddenly glad to have two, healthy eyes: the man would have trouble in a fight, with no peripheral vision on his right side.

"Mad-Eye?"

They were the first clear words the prisoner had spoken since Moody had entered the interrogation room. Even if they were completely nonsensical, it was a start.

The man leaned forward. He had a slightly conspiratorial air about him.

"Don't trust Rookwood," he whispered. "He's been passing information to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from inside the Ministry itself."

Moody felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and mentally shook himself.

"And what do you know about Voldemort, then," asked Moody. Maybe this could be worth his while after all.

"Fear of the name," said the man, but then he became distracted again, and his eye flicked downwards.

"Dumbledore says that," said Moody, trying to be encouraging. "Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"Dumbledore!" said the man. "Is he here?" His eyes were wide, and Moody could see the desperation in his face.

"Not here," grunted Moody. The case might be slightly unusual, but he wasn't going to get his friend out of bed in the middle of the night, just to listen to the confused ramblings of a very lost man.

"We mustn't say his name or he will find us."

Moody rubbed his hand against his face, feeling the prickle of his stubble. When was the last time he had had a shave?

"Is Lily here?"

Unable to help himself, Moody ran through a quick inventory of the names he knew at the Ministry. There was no-one named Lily, as far as he knew.

"Not that I know of," he said.

"She has to be here," he whispered. His voice sounded small and sad, as though it were coming from the bottom of a deep, dark hole. "She has to be."

Moody got heavily to his feet. He didn't think he could bear much more of this, and he felt guilty for his lack of empathy. When had he stopped caring? The man seemed harmless enough, despite being completely insane. He didn't like to think about the fate that awaited him here. The prisoner would never see the sky again, that was for certain.

There was a whisper, and a ball of silvery vapour materialised from under the door. He jumped slightly, before realising the Patronus for what it was. As he watched, it transformed into a twittering sparrow, which whispered its message quickly into his ear before vanishing.

"Fancy that," he said, to no-one in particular.

* * *

Because he found the prisoner's manner and appearance unsettling - far more unsettling that he cared to admit - Moody decided to wait in the corridor. He'd left Bode watching him. This was not an ideal arrangement, as Bode wanted to return the prisoner to the Department of Mysteries as quickly as possible. He was resentful and angry at Moody's intrusion, and in response, Moody was fulfilling his official duty with glacial slowness.

His message to Albus had been brief, and not terribly informative.

_Funny business down here, if you've got time after Bagnold. Some nut-job who turned up in the Department of Mysteries is asking for you. Could be important. Ninth Level, interrogation room B._

Albus had always had a soft-spot for cases like this, Moody knew. He didn't want to waste his friend's valuable time, but he was sure that Dumbledore would want to know. It was the kind of thing he was interested in.

There was more to it than that though, he thought. Moody trusted his intuitions. Something niggled at the back of his mind, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was. It made him anxious, not least because if Albus didn't arrive soon, Bode was going to drag the intruder back down to the Department of Mysteries no matter how hard Moody objected. It would be the end after that. They would never see him again.

It was a close thing. Bode was actually beginning to un-cuff the manacles from the floor to take the prisoner downstairs when Moody heard the rattle of the elevator. With a feeling of relief, he saw Albus striding down the long corridor, and raised his hand in welcome.

"Alastor," he said. Dumbledore looked tired and drawn, and Moody felt a twinge of guilt at having called him here. "What is it?"

"Come and see," he replied.

Bode was annoyed at being denied the chance to immediately conduct further experimentation. He seemed downright insulted when Moody asked him to leave.

When Moody led Dumbledore in, however, he knew he'd done the right thing. The effect on the man was immediate and dramatic.

"Professor," he said, in a strangely childish voice for a man so old and battered. At the same time, his tone was clearer and more direct than anything Moody had gotten out of him.

Dumbledore stood quite still in the doorway. Moody turned towards him, trying to read the expression on his friend's face. Slowly, Dumbledore stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. His intense stare never wavered, and Moody wondered what he was seeing. What signs could Albus see, that were invisible to him?

After a few moments of observation, he spoke to Moody.

"Alastor," he said. "I must ask you to leave us."

He waited outside the door for half an hour before being called back in. By then, it was half-past-three in the morning, and he was beginning to think longingly of his bed.

To his shock and mild alarm, he saw the Dumbledore had removed the prisoners's chains. The man stood unsupported, but was hunched over as though in terrible pain.

"Alastor," said Dumbledore. "Do you have your spare invisibility cloak?"

"Always," Moody grunted. He pulled it from his robe, tossing it to Dumbledore without objection.

"I will need your assistance escorting our new friend from Ministry premises. It is of the utmost importance that he is released into the custody of the Order."

Albus - with great gentleness - guided the man towards him. "I am going to escort you back to my office at Hogwarts," he said, quietly, as though he were speaking to an frightened first year. "It is important that you stay quiet and by my side until that time. We must not be observed as we exit. Do you understand me?"

The man nodded, silently. Albus's intervention seemed to have rendered him as pliant as newborn kitten.

Albus fastened the cloak around the man's shoulders, rendering him completely invisible. He waved his wand, closing his eyes for a moment in concentration.

A ghostly apparition appeared. As Moody watched, it became opaque. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the man appeared to still be seated at the table, staring blankly at his hands.

"It should last about an hour before dissolving," said Dumbledore.

Orders were orders, thought Moody, but enough was also enough.

"Albus," Moody said. "What the hell is going on? And who the hell is he?"

Dumbledore smiled his secret smile. "I will explain everything soon. At Monday night's meeting."

He paused for a moment, before opening the door. He held his arm at a strange angle, and Moody knew that he was guiding his invisible companion.

"As for who our new friend is... he represents the difference between winning and losing this war. Goodnight, Alastor."

* * *

_Upon questioning the subject, Auror Moody summoned Albus Dumbledore. What the two discussed is unknown to me, as this section of the recording spell is blank._

_Albus Dumbledore left shortly after, apologising that he could not be of more assistance. Rookwood, Moody and myself continued to question the subject, but after this point he seemed unwilling to answer or respond to us._

_At approximately 04:03 on the morning of the 31st of July, the subject vanished, transforming into vapour._

_His origin, powers and purpose are still unknown._


	2. The Long Chase

The railway terminus of Greater Cokeworth was small and uninspiring. It consisted of a concrete island between the two railway tracks, a small under-cover enclave and a kiosk, from behind which a bored looking woman dispensed tickets to a queue of waiting commuters.

The passenger at the head of the queue was a young man. His dark hair was slightly longer than the fashions of the time, reaching well past his shoulders. His clothes also had a slight hint of the unorthodox (or perhaps it was merely shabbiness). The coat was too old-fashioned, and the soles of his shoes were peeling away from the uppers. He seemed to be having trouble paying for his train fare, for he stared at the pile of coins in his hand with a slight narrowing of the eyes that implied confusion.

If anyone of the other passengers had taken an interest, they might have wondered about the strange, scowling boy. But they didn't take an interest, and for that the young man was grateful. At sixteen, Severus Snape's one aim in life was to be left alone.

He'd only caught the Muggle train once before, and he found it as confusing now as he had then. The woman selling tickets gave him a suspicious look as he pushed the pile of coins towards her. Severus glared back, and accepted his ticket in resentful silence.

He waited for perhaps ten minutes before the train arrived, amongst the shuffling Muggle passengers. They were like cattle, he thought, content to be herded this way and that. He grinned at his joke, but had no-one to share it with.

The train was crowded, but Severus spied a free pair of seats and headed for them. He slipped into the seat quietly, so as not to disturb the Muggle on the opposite side of the Formica table. The man was hidden behind his newspaper, and showed no sign that he had noticed Severus sit down. Severus could just make out the green-brown cuff of his suit.

Severus hunched his shoulders and pulled out his book. It was an old textbook of his mother's that he'd found in the attic. It would take around forty-five minutes to get to London. After that, it would be around an hour's walk to the Leaky Cauldron... unless he caught the underground Muggle train. But Severus didn't know how those trains worked. Would he have enough money? He would have to talk to strangers, and ask Muggles for help. It was better if he walked, even if it took twice as long.

Severus was roused from his reverie by the man across from him, who gave a deep-felt sigh and let his newspaper fall with a rustle.

What followed was a very strange and awkward moment. It seemed to last a very long time, though in retrospect Severus knew that only a few seconds could have passed.

The man, for his part, gaped at him as though he had seen a ghost. He looked both terrified and dumbfounded. "What-" he said. "How-"

Severus, for his part, was realising why no-one else had sat here, on the otherwise crowded train. The left-hand side of the stranger's face appeared perfectly normal. The only slight peculiarity was the gold-rimmed monocle affixed to his eye. He had shaggy, greying hair, which clashed with his neatly trimmed auburn beard and sideburns.

But the rest of his face... On the right-hand side, the man's skin was shiny and crinkled, like a balloon. He had no eyebrow or eyelashes on that side, and his eye – his right eye – was milky-white, and stared blankly at nothing. A curse scar, thought Severus, stupidly, before remembering that the man was a Muggle.

Severus realised he'd been staring, and flicked his eyes downwards. Had he already looked too long?

The man was speaking now, and Severus twisted his book in his hands in awkward embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "You startled me."

Severus didn't want to talk to him, so he mumbled something, and pretended to be reading. He let his hair fall forward, so it would hide his face. The only person whom he had ever liked talking to was no longer speaking to him, and he loathed idle conversation, especially with strangers. He rubbed his left forearm absent-mindedly. As the train clattered on through Essex, he sneaked glances at the man though the curtain of his hair. He had the strangest feeling that the man was sneaking glances back at him, though he never caught him at it. He resolved to leave the train quickly when he arrived in London, and hoped the man would get off before that.

The rest of the journey was largely uneventful, except for when a smiling, overweight Muggle woman came stomping down the aisle to check their tickets. The man across from him greeted her warmly, and offered her his ticket while engaging in the usual bantering small talk that Severus had never gotten the hang of. Severus could tell that the ticket inspector was disturbed by the man's deformity, and he despised her for it.

"And your son?" she asked, her bright manner unshaken. Severus realised she meant him.

"I'm not his son," he said, deeply insulted. He thrust her ticket at her, and her smile flickered and died.

Upon arrival at Liverpool Street Station, he did indeed leave the train as quickly as possible. Something about the whole experience had put his teeth on edge, and he wanted to put the train and the strange man behind him. He walked briskly through London, but try as he might, he couldn't shake his slight feeling of unease. The back of his neck was prickling, and he was glad when he finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, forty-five minutes later.

He changed into wizard's robes in the bathroom of the pub, and felt more comfortable for doing it. Though his robes were patched and battered, he liked that they hid his body so completely. He would have happily worn them all the time, except that he couldn't bear to endure the stares and whispers that would have surely dogged him from Cokeworth if he had left his home wearing a full set of wizard's robes.

With his shoulders hunched and his head low, he crossed the portal that separated Muggle and wizarding London.

Severus headed for Gringott's first. He had scavenged a ten pound note from his father's wallet, but he doubted that it would be sufficient for the supplies he needed. He could have possibly taken more, but his father might have noticed, and asked questions.

Since the departure of his mother, ten months previously, their small household had deteriorated alarmingly. He had spoken only a handful of words to his father over the summer, and was glad to be returning to school. He was already scraping the back of the cupboards to find something to eat, and that morning, several angry-looking red envelopes had been pushed through the letterbox.

He was thinking about that as he presented the note at the counter, pressing it flat. The goblin eyed him suspiciously. Severus glared back.

After examining the note against the light, the goblin presented him with a single galleon, and a handful of silver and bronze coins. He felt eyes on the back of his neck, and knew that he was being judged. His clothes were tattered and slightly damp, and his hair stuck together in greasy strands. He'd washed it only yesterday, but already it had returned to its usual oily state.

Severus walked quickly back past the brightly painted, cheerful shops of Diagon Alley. There was a crowd in the pre-school rush to get supplies, such that it was almost a relief to turn into the quieter streets of Knockturn. There were fewer people here, and everyone minded their own business.

He stopped first at the apothecary. It was essential that he replenish his stores, but he knew that he could find most of the ingredients for half price at this down-market shop. They were of the same quality as those sold in Diagon, if one was prepared to overlook their questionable origin.

Severus visited the bookshop next. It was one of his favourite places. The wrinkled squib who owned it always seemed supremely unconcerned by his grouchy manner, and secretly, Severus was grateful. The owner read through his book-list, before weaving his way through the stacks.

"I have the third edition. It'd be two decades out of date by now, mind you, but..." The old man's face creased into a smile. "The subject doesn't change that much, my boy."

Severus hoped that it was true. His books never properly matched the official syllabus, often leaving him scrambling to find the correct page for homework in his mismatched edition.

Despite this, Severus felt pride in his books. He felt that his worn, pre-studied copies were superior to the freshly-minted tomes his classmates would be reading from. Of course, that wouldn't stop _Them_ noticing, and commenting on it, but that couldn't be helped.

After five minutes of haggling, he bought his entire book-list for eight sickles. The owner had thrown in a battered Muggle textbook as well, which was titled _Trigonometry_. He put it on the bottom of the pile, so no-one would see it as he walked back through the wizarding streets.

This had left no money for new robes. Severus thought about that as he trudged back to the main road. He hadn't grown much over the summer. Perhaps he could patch the ones he already had.

Severus was passing Borgin and Burkes when he became aware that someone was following him. He realised that he had felt his pursuer for some time, but had only now registered his presence on a conscious level. He didn't turn to look – that would have given the game away. Without altering his pace, he wandered casually over to one of the narrow alleys that branched off the main road. As soon as he was in the shadow of the alley, he broke into a run.

He didn't know why the man was following him, and had no interest hanging around to find out. Severus felt more confident in himself after what had happened last month, but he still wasn't keen on meeting a potential adversary in one of the dodgier streets of wizarding London. He wasn't even supposed to do magic. He pushed past a toothless, babbling old woman who tried to grab his coat, skidding around a corner and -

- ran straight into a trip jinx. He fell heavily, his books and potion ingredients skidding over the dirty cobbles. His wand slipped from his fingers, clattering away across the cold stone. He could hear laughter, and he scrambled for his wand, but it was dark and he couldn't see it. He looked up, instead, his heart beating fast.

There were four men gathered lazily around the back door of a shop. One was sitting on the stoop, and the rest were leaning against the wall. They appeared to be drinking from a single steaming flask. The largest picked up something from the ground.

"Looking for this?"

Severus reached for his wand, and the man held it out of his reach. "Nu-uh. What might you be doing down here, sonny-jim?"

He flushed. They were teasing him, but they probably wouldn't hurt him. Probably.

"I took a wrong turn," he said. "Can I please have my wand back?"

They all laughed again. "Sit with us," said the smaller one. He was missing both his front teeth. "Have a drink."

Severus felt completely out of his element. Their manner reminded him of Black and Potter, teasing him. He didn't understand the game they were playing, or what he was expected to do.

One of them picked up the Muggle textbook. It had skidded out of his bag onto the filthy ground. "What's this?" Severus felt his heart skip a beat. This could get bad…

There was a cough from behind him. It was such a pointed, powerful cough that Severus immediately spun around to see who had made the noise, even though that put the other four enemies at his back.

It was the man from the train. Severus stared, open mouthed. He couldn't have been more surprised, but it was definitely the same man. That scar was too unique. He even wore the same battered, three piece suit, although it was rendered somewhat incongruous by the wand clutched firmly in his right hand.

Severus's head flicked from the man, back to four drinkers.

"My apologies, gentlemen. My young friend merely took a wrong turn." Severus saw the flick of a wand out of the corner of his eye, and his belongings flew back towards him. Severus caught the books and package under one arm, and his wand with the other. "Right. We'll be going." An iron grip encircled Severus's arm. He resisted for a moment, before letting the stranger drag him from the alley. He thought the drinkers would protest, but they merely leered at him in silence.

Severus felt betrayed by his body, which had begun to tremble. He felt unable to speak. His mind was filled with unpleasant adn frightening thoughts. He had a vague idea of what strange men did to teenage boys behind Knockturn Alley, and he clutched his wand tightly in his left hand, his heart beating fast. Could he make a run for it?

But the man made no attempt to touch him, aside from the hand on his arm. They walked quickly back to the main road, the newcomer frequently glancing over his shoulder. They took a slightly different path out of the back-streets, arriving back on Diagon, rather than Knockturn. They'd walked briskly, and in silence, but when Severus was out in the bright, open air, he finally found his voice again.

"Piss off, you creep," he said, struggling to get free. "Why were you following me."

The man's grip was implacable, and he actually shook Severus slightly as he spoke to him. "What were you _doing_ down there."

Severus gave a particularly strong wrench, managing to free his arm at last. The _nerve _of him. He was tempted to run, but eyed the wand in the man's hand, and thought better of it. "What were you doing, following me?"

"I was concerned for your well-being. Rightly so, it seems."

"My well-being is none of your business. I wouldn't have ever gone that way if you weren't following me." His desire to shout was battling with his desire to remain inconspicuous in the busy street.

"If I see a sixteen-year-old wizard walking alone through the Knockturn Alley, I consider it my business."

"I'm seventeen," he lied. The stranger's tone had greatly nettled him, but there were other questions that needed answering. "What are… why are you wearing… Why would a wizard catch a Muggle train?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I'm-" _underage_, but he had realised his mistake. The man smirked at him. "It's none of your business. I can look after myself." With that, he turned his back on the man, striding back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Severus," the man called out from behind him. He turned.

The stranger was holding out his trigonometry text-book. The binding – already cracked and ageing – had split from the book completely. With a wave of his wand, the man reattached the cover.

Severus snatched it back from him. "Thanks for nothing," he spat. He was in such a hurry to leave that the obvious question did not occur to him until he was nearly at the Leaky Cauldron, but by that time, the man had disappeared into the crowd.


	3. The First of September

_AN: Who-ever submitted me to the community of 'NOT reprocessed vomit', thank-you! Such high flattery :P Sorry for the delay in updates... What with Christmas and MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER I hadn't had time to polish this off. _

* * *

Severus stood by the side of the road on the outskirts of Cokeworth, gnawing his thumbnail apprehensively. The dark clouds on the horizon looked ominous, and the pressing humidity did nothing to improve his anxiety.

The bus had been scheduled to arrive at eight forty-five, but nine o'clock had come and gone. It was nearly ten past now, and still there was no sign of the bus.

Severus had arrived at the Muggle train station nearly an hour ago. There had been a large, laminated sign posted to the padlocked gate.

_This section of the Great Eastern Line Will be closed until further notice_

_in order to enable the transfer to electrification._

_Replacement bus services will be departing hourly from Cokeson Road._

_We thank you for your patience_

It was exactly his sort of luck, he had thought, as he dragged his trunk back to the main road. Just as he had started to learn how to use the Muggle trains, they stopped working.

He looked at his watch again. It was fifteen past nine. He leaned out to peer apprehensively around the corner, and it was at that exact moment that a car squealed by, splattering his Muggle trousers in mud.

He had no idea what to do, and every minute that passed seemed to increase the feeling of dread in his stomach. What would happen if he missed the train? He would have to ask someone for help soon, if the bus didn't come.

Severus looked up at the sky, just in time for a fat drop of rain to land directly in his eye. He swore, and kicked his trunk where it lay heavily on the concrete curb. Just as he was about to despair entirely, there was the rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel.

The Ford Cortina that had pulled up next to him was olive green and immaculately cared for. Severus recognised it at once, with a twist in his stomach that was both delight and dread.

"Severus!" boomed Major Evans, leaning over to the passenger window. "Hop in, son!"

He wasn't about to protest. It was already twenty past nine, and the rain was starting to fall more heavily now. He heaved his battered trunk into the boot of the car. It barely fit. He ran back to the rear door and squeezed into the vehicle with a feeling of relief. It was relief tinged with fear, of course, because he wasn't alone in the back seat.

Major Evans nodded to him, and put the car back into gear. Within moments, the bus stop, the muddy road, and Cokeworth itself was nothing more than an unpleasant memory in the rear-view mirror.

Major Evans was speaking in his usual ringing tones. "I was just driving by and I saw you waiting there, Severus. Why didn't you say that you needed a ride to the station? You know, Daisy and I are always happy to help you out with these things. It's no trouble at all!"

Severus opened his mouth to come up with some kind of excuse, before realising his input was not needed in the conversation. The Major continued to chatter on - about the state of the traffic, about the weather, about the Muggle prime-minister. He needed only the smallest of prompts from Severus to continue talking.

Severus thought that the Major – if he had been a wizard – would have definitely been in Gryffindor.

"Severus," he said, as they were stopped at a set of traffic lights, "Daisy and I are always happy to have you round for tea. Just pop by any old time."

It was at this point that the car's other passenger turned away from the window to narrow her eyes threateningly at Severus, clearly indicating that this was not an offer he should ever take up.

It was the first time Lily had acknowledged him in the entire journey. She was wearing her hair piled up on top of her head today, but a single corkscrew strand had escaped. It lay against her cheek, and Severus looked at that, rather than her eyes. He felt awkward and embarrassed, so he let his gaze fall to his hands, twisting in his lap. He felt a desperate need to fill the silence, so he spoke.

"Where is Mrs. Evans?" he asked.

The Major started. His voice, which had been loud and confident a moment before, shook very slightly. "She's uh... she's not well, I'm afraid."

Severus could feel Lily eyeing him with a look of absolute hatred. He wished he was on the bus to London, and didn't have to talk to anyone at all. He sunk down in his seat and pulled up the collar of his coat, glowering out over the fields as they hurtled through the Green Belt. He watched the droplets of rain clinging to the window forming into rivulets, which ran down across the glass and vanished.

Severus had spent a lot of time thinking, that summer. Over the last two weeks, he hadn't spoken to anyone, except for a few terse words to his father if they happened to collide in the narrow hall. He'd spent the time reading, instead, and constructing elaborate arguments with imagined adversaries.

Severus had thought about Lily a lot, as well, though he hadn't intended to. She had woven in and out of his dreams. He felt the flush creeping up his neck, and was glad that she wasn't looking at him as he remembered _that_ dream.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Severus began re-reading his copy of _Advanced Potion Making. _From the glances he sneaked at her from beneath his lashes, Lily seemed content to gaze out of the window.

The traffic in London was mercifully thin, and they arrived at King's Cross at ten-thirty. Lily leaned forward to kiss her father quickly on his cheek.

"You can just drop us here, Daddy."

Major Evans looked slightly hurt by this, but acquiesced.

Severus wrestled both their trunks from the back of the car, while Lily said goodbye to her father through the driver's window. She returned a moment later, and together they watched as the Ford Cortina rolled away into the London traffic.

Severus realised that he had forgotten to say thank-you, but by then the car was already out of sight. As soon as her father had disappeared, Lily grabbed her trunk.

"Stay away from me," she hissed, and turned her back on him. He waited a few minutes before following her.

Once through the barrier, he was instantly surrounded by vast swathes of chattering students. The anxiety that had twisted in Severus's stomach since he'd woken up that morning seemed to loosen. He was here. He'd made it.

He saw Lily, laughing with a group of friends, and turned in the opposite direction, dragging his trunk onto the crowded train with his head bowed.

The corridor was packed with people hugging and laughing after a summer apart. Severus shoved through them without apology, the copy of _Advanced Potion Making _still clutched in his slightly sweaty hand. At every carriage, he peered through the window, trying to see if there was anyone he could sit with.

He found his friends in the second last carriage on the train, and slid open the door with a sense of relief.

There were five boys in the compartment, and one girl. Mulciber nodded at him, curtly, and Severus took that as a cue to sit down

"Where is Lestrange?" he asked. He'd been looking forward to seeing the older boy.

"Prefects' carriage," said Wilkes, quietly.

Severus was going to ask why Wilkes wasn't there as well, but thought better of it. He would surely have his reasons. He flicked back to the chapter he had been reading. _Golpalott's Third Law._

"Saw you getting out a _car _with that Mudblood, Snape," said Avery.

Severus pretended not to hear, but Avery scrunched up a piece of parchment and lobbed it at his head.

"I've washed my hands since then, if that's what you mean," he said, drily, without looking up.

The other boys roared with laughter at this, and Alecto gave a shriek of mirth. Severus smirked, although he felt the twinge of unease he always felt when he spoke ill of her. Still, it wasn't as though they were friends any-more. They'd both chosen their sides. What did it matter, what he said?

There was a jolt, and a distant scream of metal, and the train shuddered into life.

Wilkes and Mulciber were talking politics, rather more loudly than was necessary. Their conversation dominated the compartment, even though Severus was sure the others wouldn't get much out of it. Severus himself was interested, but preferred to listen to the conversation, rather than participate in it himself. He always seemed to say the wrong thing, and he was behind on the news, having not read the Prophet all summer.

Severus Snape understood how conversations worked, more or less. He was quite good at telling when people where lying, or trying to kiss up, or acting on some ulterior motive. It was just that he himself had never been able to get the hang of it. Perhaps it was that he tried consciously to do what others did without thinking. Either way, it was better if he just listened.

The conversation made him feel deeply contented, in a way he couldn't quite place. It was the guarded mentions of _our mutual friend,_ and of an unnamed _He. _It gave Severus the feeling that this year – finally – he would be moving up in the world. It would be different this year. It had to be.

Wilkes and Mulciber were arguing now, over the results of a vampire's trial that had occurred the week before. Wilkes was usually quiet, but the topic seemed to have spiked his interest. The focus on current affairs made Severus uncomfortable. If someone asked his opinion, he would have to bluff his way through, lest he reveal the basic Muggle existence he had lived over the summer. He decided to get changed. The other boys and Alecto were all already wearing their uniforms, and he stood out like a sore thumb in his threadbare jeans and oversized shirt. No-one made any comment as he left the carriage with his robes slung over one shoulder.

Getting changed took longer than he had anticipated, as he attempted to patch the holes and frayed edges with some charms he'd memorised. Severus hoped that no-one would look too closely.

When he came back he found the carriage to be rather more crowded, as two of the seventh year girls had arrived. He also found that Avery had locked the door. He knew it had been Avery, because he laughed the hardest out of the boys left in the compartment as Severus tried to get back in. He tried to unlock it with a spell, and his friends all laughed harder.

Avery always did things like that, when the girls were around.

Severus rolled his eyes at them and turned back to walk back along the corridor. He walked back to the bathroom where he'd changed. Perhaps he could lock himself in and simply read in there for the duration of the journey. All the other compartments were bound to be full by this point, and no-one else would want him to sit with them.

He adjusted his gait to counter the rocking of the train. He went to the lavatory, but decided that it was unwise to stay there for the entire duration of the journey. There were only three lavatories on the train, and if he locked himself in, someone was bound to break down the door eventually. That would lead to a scene, and Severus wanted to avoid another _scene_ at all costs.

He looked at his reflection in the spotted mirror as he washed his hands. His ugly, frowning face glared back at him. There was a pimple developing above his left eyebrow, and it seemed to throb painfully as soon as he looked at it. He rubbed at the bruise on his cheek, absent mindedly.

When he opened the door, he came face-to-face with Sirius Black.

* * *

"Snivellus!" said Black, cheerfully. "What an unpleasant surprise."

Severus let the bathroom door slide shut behind him, reaching for his wand. Potter and Pettigrew were just behind Black. Pettigrew was hopping from foot to foot with that stupid, nervous grin he got whenever trouble was brewing.

He glared at the three of them, fighting back a flush as he remembered their last confrontation.

Black leaned forward and sniffed loudly, his nose wrinkling.

"You stink, Snivellus," he said. "I mean, you literally stink. Have you washed at all over summer?"

Pettigrew giggled, shrilly, and Severus's flush deepened. He gripped his wand more tightly.

He could probably hex Black before the other two reacted, but what would he do then? There was nowhere to run, and there were three of them against one of him. He was thinking fast about what to do when the compartment door behind him banged open

"Leave him alone," said a voice.

It wasn't Lily who had come to his rescue this time. It was Regulus, Black's younger and (in Severus's opinion) greatly superior brother. Severus shifted aside to allow him some room in the corridor.

Regulus's wand was out, and he looked murderous.

"Little bro!" said Black, with feigned delight. Regulus's wand shot sparks.

"You're not my brother," he spat. "Piss off, will you. Go and make trouble somewhere else."

"But I love trouble!" exclaimed Sirius. He twirled his wand between his fingers. Black was lolling against the side of the train, like a lazy dog in the sun. In contrast, Regulus's back was arched and his teeth bared. Severus was about to throw a hex, when he heard a cough behind him. He recognised the noise at once, with a feeling that was like cold water being poured on his insides. He spun around, wand raised.

"_You_," he spat.

"Hello again, Severus. We seem to be establishing a habit of meeting on trains."

It was the man from Knockturn Alley.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I work here," the man said. He was wearing wizard's robes, for a change, and seemed highly amused. He was leaning against the side of the corridor, observing the scene with his good eye slightly narrowed.

"On a train?" Severus asked, stupidly. His mind was blank.

The man gave him a sardonic look. "At Hogwarts," he said. Severus lowered his wand. Behind him, he could hear Potter's gang sniggering. The man had such a _professorish_ manner that Snape wondered why he hadn't figured it out before.

He felt incredibly stupid. He'd already made an enemy of a professor, and the term hadn't even started.

"Professor Makepeace," said Potter, pushing past Severus to offer the professor his hand. "We met over the break, if you recall. At the Puddlemere United match."

The man took it. "Of course I do. That must make you," he inclined his head slightly, "Peter Pettigrew. Your reputation precedes you. But where is Remus?"

"He's in the prefect's carriage, sir."

"Hmm," he said. "A pity he isn't here to keep an eye on you. I must ask you to return to your compartment, and leave pent up masculine aggression on the Quidditch pitch where it belongs."

Potter ducked his head, chastened, and the Gryffindor boys trouped back down the hall. Black grabbed Pettigrew in a headlock as they walked, and the two boys scuffled together. Severus glared at their retreating backs. As usual, Black, Potter and Pettigrew escaped with a slap on the wrist, and it was he, Severus, who got the blame. He turned back to the scarred professor, prepared to receive what was sure to be a stern lecture.

"What was all that about?" asked the man. Severus thought that Potter had said his name, but he himself had already forgotten what it was.

He shrugged, aggressively. Regulus gave him a withering look, and turned to the new professor, his face a picture of pure-blood civility.

"My brother," he said, "loves to start trouble, Sir. He and his little gang are always picking fights with Slytherins."

"Is that so? I must watch out then."

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I think I also ran into you over break, though I didn't have a chance to formally introduce myself. I'm Regulus Black." Regulus proffered his hand.

"Name's Makepeace," said the man. "Professor Makepeace, to you." He took Regulus's hand and shook it firmly. "I'd love to stay and chat, but corridors aren't really the best place for conversations. Or turf wars, come to that."

"Understood, sir," said Regulus, smirking. Makepeace nodded to him, and pushed past them to continue his patrol of the corridor. Regulus walked the three paces back to his own compartment and pulled open the door. "Want to join us, Snape?"

Snape blinked, surprised. He opened his mouth – to say that he was already sitting with the other Slytherin boys – but then he shut it again. It wasn't as though they'd miss him. He watched Makepeace amble away down the rocking corridor, frowning slightly at his back.

He realised that Makepeace had met him, Potter and both Black brothers over the summer break. It wasn't that odd; they lived in a small community, and chance meetings were to be expected. Still, it was perhaps a shade unusual. Severus filed the fact away in his mind, to be considered later, and turned his attention to the situation in front of him.

"You're such a freak," said Regulus. He was standing in the open doorway. Severus swallowed, realising he had taken too long to reply. "You... oh, never mind. Come in."

It was as though even criticising Severus was too much effort for Regulus. He followed the younger boy through the doorway.

Regulus's compartment was quiet, despite how crowded it was. It was filled with other fifth years. Severus knew them all by sight, if not by name. One of them was the seeker for Gryffindor. Barry, his name was, Severus thought. Or Bertie.

He felt awkward. He wasn't that knowledgeable about the fifth years, but he knew that Regulus's gang were popular. He suspected that Regulus had invited him in to annoy his elder brother, and wondered vaguely if Avery had unlocked the door yet.

"What was all that about?" asked a blonde girl whom Severus didn't know. She had a smattering of freckles on her nose, and a blue ribbon in her hair.

"Just becoming acquainted with new staff members," said Regulus, lightly. He flicked his hair out of his eyes in a way that reminded Severus of his older brother. "What'd you think of him, Snape?"

Severus sat on a trunk propped upright on the floor. He was nervous, and so hunched his shoulders apprehensively.

"He's weird," he said. "I don't like him much."

Everyone in the carriage laughed. Severus started, worried that they were laughing at him. He didn't understand the dynamic of this group of friends, so he returned to his book, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. After that, however, they seemed content to let him read, and the rest of the journey passed without incident. He listened to the conversation of the others – idle chatter about their summer holidays, filled with friends and parties and fun – and wondered what life would be like if he had been born like everyone else.

By the time the train began to slow into Hogsmeade station, Severus was growing very hungry indeed. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and even then it had only been toast and coffee. He found a space in a horseless carriage with some third years, and shut his eyes as they trundled up towards the castle.

It was only when he arrived in the Great Hall that he saw Rabastan Lestrange. The last time he'd seen Rabastan had been during the summer. He hadn't seen his face then, only his eyes, but Rabastan had clearly remembered him nevertheless, for he raised his hand in welcome. Severus felt a flush of pleasure. He strode to sit next to him.

"Good to see you again, Snape," he said. Severus smirked. "I heard Avery made trouble on the train."

Severus gave a shrug, to show how little it had meant to him. "Just a prank," he said. "It was funny."

Rabastan's pale eyes looked at him. Severus cleared his mind, in the way he had practiced over the summer.

"We must stick together, now," said Rabastan, enigmatically, and Severus had to fight his grin.

Regulus was seated on Snape's other side. "I heard _the dog_ got kicked out of home over the summer," called someone. Both Regulus and Severus laughed.

"He kept mucking up the carpet," said Regulus. He leant back against the stone wall behind his with a relaxed coolness that Snape would never be able to accomplish

The doors opened, and the gaggle of first year students tottered in, led by McGonagall. Severus read his book during the Hat's new song, but decided to watch the Sorting itself. Around twelve new Slytherins joined their ranks: an unusually high number for a house as selective as his.

Dumbledore stood.

"I have much to say," he said, in ringing tones, "but now is not the right time."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the headmaster sat back down. Suddenly, the plates in front of them were filled with food. Severus's eyes slid from the headmaster to Makepeace. The new professor's head was bowed, and his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His lips were moving silently. Perhaps it was a spell of some sort, Severus thought, for a moment later Makepeace began to eat. Severus followed his example.

His father had not, he knew, purposely starved him during the summer. However, in the last few weeks, he had been forced to open some questionable jars at the back of the cupboard in his search for food. Severus thought he would be able to cook quite well, if he'd been given the chance. The gas had been cut off a month ago, however, so his opportunities for experimentation had been limited. The Hogwarts' feast was a welcome change.

All in all, it was nice to be back. Despite his lack of popularity, and his own awkwardness, he thought that maybe this year he'd manage to carve a place for himself.

After clearing his third helping of desert, the plates were cleared, and Dumbledore rose to his feet. Severus frowned, ready for the usual inane babble about the state of the wizarding world. He wasn't disappointed, and was more focused on Bole's whispered conversation with Mulciber further up the table, about a werewolf attack over the summer.

_Maybe Lupin's been running wild,_ he thought. He searched for Lupin at the Gryffindor table, and found his pale face, upturned to the headmaster.

"Finally," said Dumbledore, "I would like to welcome a new member of staff. Please give a traditional Hogwarts' welcome to Professor Henry Makepeace, who will of course be filling the Defence Against the Dark Arts post."

Makepeace stood, a little self-consciously, and raised his hand in welcome. There was a smattering of applause, though to Severus's surprise Regulus, and a few others scattered throughout the hall, applauded more loudly and enthusiastically than was normal.

Severus, on the other hand, did not clap, and glowered at Makepeace with all the disdain he could muster. The new professor caught his eye, and gave him a cheerful wave. Severus turned away in disgust.

"Not much of a looker, that one," said Bole. Snape stabbed the table with his fork.

"Met him over the summer," he muttered. "Total freak."

Bole laughed. "If you think he's a freak, Snape, there's got to be something wrong with him."

Severus ignored that comment, returning his focus to the textbook. He thought about it later, though, when he was showering. What had he done wrong, this time? The question stayed with him as he climbed into bed. He'd eaten too much, and his stomach squirmed. Severus lay looking up at the canopy of his bed for a long time, and fell asleep to confused dreams.


	4. The Prince and the Professor

_Sorry for the delay. This chapter took longer than I expected. Also, I've been building a TARDIS in my garage, which has been taking up a good proportion of my fannish time. To my new followers: Hi! Thanks for the interest. Please leave a comment to say hi! Constructive criticism greatly appreciated __:)_

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Prince and the Professor**

Severus had planned to arrive at breakfast early the next morning, but he overslept. During the summer, he'd been sleeping all day and staying awake all night, and his body was protesting loudly to the change.

It was nearly a quarter to nine by the time he stumbled into the Great Hall, and he only just managed to catch Slughorn before the big man set off for his own lessons. Severus needed to clear his subjects in time for his first class, since he didn't yet know what his timetable would be.

"Ah, Severus," said the professor, jovially. "I was pleased with your results. I will of course be thrilled to have you back in my class with an 'O' Potions." He skimmed through the list Severus had handed him. "Let's see... Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures... it's a heavy NEWT load you're taking, my boy, mind you don't overwork yourself. Yes, this all seems in working order." He paused, a slight frown appearing on his pudgy forehead. "Except for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class..."

Severus gaped. "I got an O in my OWL," he said, angrily. "How can there possibly be a problem?"

Slughorn looked startled at his tone, and hurriedly rechecked his list. "No, no, you're on here. Your Defence class is at nine, though, and it's on the seventh floor. You'd best hurry!

Snape stuck a piece of toast between his teeth, grabbed his new timetable and left his seat at a half-run. He nearly collided with Wilkes in the door of the Entrance Hall.

"Where are you rushing off to then?" asked Wilkes. He seemed quietly amused at Severus's state of disarray.

"Defence," he said quickly, swallowing toast. "Aren't you coming?"

Wilkes looked confused. "No," he said. "Class is on Monday afternoon. What are you talking about?"

Severus didn't have time to argue. His timetable definitely said 9 o'clock on Thursday, and he would have to move quickly in order to get to the 7th floor on time.

It wasn't that he wanted to impress Makepeace, he thought, as he ran up the spiral staircase. The man was clearly insane. However, Defence was his best subject, and he wasn't going to _not try_ just because his professor was a maniac. Besides, he didn't want to get detention for being late on his very first day.

As he took the stairs two at a time, Severus thought that it was unfortunate that - because he was in his first NEWT year - he was going to see a lot more of Black and Potter. The 6th and 7th year classes were no longer so rigidly divided by houses. Anyone who scraped an 'E' in the subject would be dumped in the advanced NEWT class, regardless of house. Last year, he'd only had to put up with the Gryffindors in Potions and Transfiguration. This year... well. He was sure Potter and Black at least would have done excellently in all their exams. Lupin and Pettigrew might be there as well, but he couldn't say for certain. Lupin was hard-working and studious, without Potter or Black's natural talents. Pettigrew was an idiot with no redeeming features what-so-ever, as far as Severus could see, but someone he always seemed to scrape through his exams with better marks than he deserved.

It wasn't even as though he could be happy that Lily was going to be there, too. She seemed to despise him so deeply. They'd been partners in Potions last term, and even then she'd been awkward around him. She'd been starting to pull away from him all year, coming up with excuses as to why she couldn't see him...

...And then he had said what he had said, and their sides had been set in stone ever since.

Severus was out of breath by the time he skidded to a halt next to a tapestry of trolls wearing tutus. He hadn't even been sure that there was a classroom on this level, but sure enough, a wooden door was there, opposite him. He checked his watch, cursed, and slunk inside. He was hungry, dishevelled, unwashed and late.

The seven-sided classroom was larger than any he had ever been in before, and a good deal stranger. For one thing, there were no desks or chairs for students to sit on. The floor was littered with large cushions and rugs. From the walls hung elaborate banners, one for each of the four houses. One of the walls was taken up with an enormous window, which, Snape noticed with some confusion, seemed to be looking out across the Quidditch pitch. He didn't think that such a view was possible from where he thought they were in the castle – but perhaps he was merely disoriented from the many turns he had taken. The other wall was fronted by a spiral staircase, which led up to a mezzanine level that Severus couldn't see from the door.

His eyes slid from that back to the class. They were all staring at him, and he became aware, with a sinking feeling, that he was the only Slytherin in the room.

"Severus," Makepeace called. "Nice of you to join us."

There was a nervous titter amongst the class, who were all sitting awkwardly on the softly matted floor. For a moment, Severus had the strangest impression that Makepeace had been waiting for him to arrive – but surely that was ridiculous. The professor turned back to the class, and the chatter subsided. His pepper-coloured hair had been tied back, though he clearly had tried to leave a lock hanging loose to cover the worst of the scarring. Severus sat down, as far as possible from Black and Potter, and glowered at them all. He caught Lily's eye for a second before she looked away.

Severus didn't like sitting on the floor. It made him feel like a small child. Makepeace gazed down at them all, imperiously, until the last rustle of conversation died away. When the he was assured of silence, he took a breath, and began.

"Right," the professor said, quietly, such that the class had to lean in slightly. "Before we get started, I wanted to talk about... well. As you know, the wizard known as 'Lord Voldemort'-" the class gave an audible gasp. Severus scowled harder, for at the sound of the name, his forearm had stung sharply. "-is currently at large in this country. Very soon, you will be leaving the cosy confines of this school, and will likely come face-to-face with the brutalities that he is inflicting upon our society. Perhaps you have already faced him, to some degree."

His good eye flicked over them. It was narrowed slightly, as if he could see whose lives had been touched by the Dark Lord. Severus resisted the urge to squirm in his seat, instead setting his face into an obstinate look of disdain.

Every other face in the classroom gazed up at Makepeace, their expressions rapt with excitement and apprehension. While they were watching the professor, Severus was watching them. He glimpsed Potter's face, gleaming with anticipation.

As he spoke, Makepeace strutted through the class.

"I know, since everyone in this class achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher in their OWLs, that you get the theory. I don't care about marking essays, and I don't have the time to either. I asked Professor Dumbledore that we be moved to this room, seeing as how this semester will be largely focused on the practical aspects of defensive magic." There was another ripple of excitement through the room. "My first priority this year is to keep you alive. You may be disappointed to learn that a lot of the strategies for staying alive might seem like cowardice to some. Personally, I believe that – at your age and skill level – the time to fight is only the time in which you can't run away."

There was a giggle at this. He saw Black laughing. Severus was sure Sirius Black had never run away from any fight, ever.

"This means that for a good deal of this semester, we will be focusing on defensive spells and enchantments, rather than the offensive ones." He paused, surveying the room. "I can see from some of your faces that you consider this to be a soft option. It isn't. By the end of this year, I expect you all to be adept in duelling, be able to cast a number of verbal and non-verbal spells that you will not have encountered before and be able to conjure a corporeal Patronus."

The last item on the list had gotten the class excited again. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There were other ways to fight Dementors.

"They key to survival is not merely learning the spells and enchantments, but applying them to the situations that will soon face you. I repeat, my first priority is to keep you alive." He clapped his hands together. "Anyone not dead by the end of the year automatically gets an O!" Everyone laughed again, but Severus didn't think it was funny.

"If any of you need to speak with me, for any reason, my office is located behind this room." He nodded to the staircase behind him. "Let's get started. The object of today's lesson is for me to assess what knowledge you have scraped together in the last five years of your formal schooling. I would like all of you to divide into pairs."

Severus felt a moment of anxiety at this. He would no longer have a go-to partner in Lily, and he could count on no-one in the class as a friend. Makepeace was explaining the rules of their duelling session – mainly that they weren't to use anything too deadly or otherwise harmful. "The aim," he called, "is to get your partner's wand."

Severus watched Black and Potter shoving their way to a spacious corner and felt his stomach churn. He spotted Stebbins on the other side of the room, and started to edge towards him. Severus had worked with him in the previous year on an Arithmancy assignment. Though his personal hygiene left much to be desired, he was - like most Ravenclaws - quiet and non-offensive in nature. But by the time he'd crossed half way, Stebbins had partnered with Mary McDonald.

Makepeace strolled through the room, correcting stances. Severus stood, awkward and partner-less, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Severus!" said Makepeace. He sounded genuinely delighted. "Shall we?"

Snape flushed, and nodded. This was what the rest of the year was going to be like, he was sure. Makepeace nodded his head slightly to indicate that he should start, and he hit the professor with a lazy stunner. Makepeace deflected it, and gave Severus a horrible wink.

He'd been determined not to try very hard, but as he began to go through his arsenal of simple, bland hexes and jinxes, he got the feeling the professor wasn't really paying attention to him. Makepeace's eye was flicking everywhere else in the room, watching the other pairs of students.

This annoyed Severus greatly. He'd already had a difficult morning, and this class wasn't helping matters. He considered the matter, and then drew the strongest binding hex he had from his personal repertoire, determined to catch Makepeace off his guard.

The professor deflected it while looking the other way. Severus was furious. The man didn't even act smug about it. He turned around. "I'm sorry, Severus," he said. "My mind was elsewhere. Would you like to try that again?"

Snape let swing with a volley of curses. He resisted using some of the darker spells he'd been studying over the break – he didn't want to give too much away. The professor deflected them all. It wasn't a shield charm. The professor seemed to be countering ever spell individually, with a variety of counter-curses.

Black and Potter had stopped duelling. They were laughing at him instead. Just when he was about to completely lose his temper, a hex - a minor stinging jinx – slipped past Makepeace's shields. Makepeace doubled up, swearing. Black and Potter stopped laughing. Potter went to help the professor up, while Black gave him a sour look. Makepeace waved Potter away, but Severus was left confused. He wasn't sure why that particular jinx had permeated Makepeace's defences. It hadn't been the strongest hex he had cast, or the most obscure.

"Well done, Severus. That was quite illuminating."

Severus was suddenly frightened he'd given too much away. The professor eyed the students that had gathered to watch. His thick, greying hair had come loose, and stuck up roughly at the back. "Right," he said. "Lupin with Snape. Pettigrew with Potter. Black, come with me."

There was a moment when Black did not look entirely pleased and being asked to duel with the professor, rather than Potter, but a second later he was grinning, acting the fool yet again. Black bowed ironically to Makepeace, and the Professor bowed back.

Severus had a good time fighting Lupin, not that he would ever admit it. He, Severus, had natural ability. Lupin had book learning, and a lot of it. A civilised werewolf, he thought, with amusement. Then, he remembered that night half a year ago, and what he had found at the end of the tunnel by the willow. Suddenly, a misfired hex tripped him, and he crashed heavily to the floor. His wand bounced from his hand. Lupin caught it. "Aha!" he said.

"That doesn't count," muttered Severus.

"Is that a Gryffindor sense of fair-play I hear coming from you, Snape?" asked Lupin, laughing. He threw Severus's wand back to him. Snape narrowed his eyes. It was just as well that at that moment, Makepeace called a halt to the duelling.

"This is promising," he said. "It's very promising. There are certain gaps in your knowledge... certain bad habits you've picked up..." He looked down at them. "We'll have to work on your technique. I think that should be the focus for the next few weeks before learning any new spells or enchantments."

He had the class wound round his little finger. Severus could see through his game, though.

They spent the rest of the lesson practising non-verbal spells. Severus had expected this, as it was a cornerstone of the NEWT curriculum. He'd studied the theory before term began, and mastered the technique quickly. After ten minutes of practice, he disarmed Lupin nonverbally.

He wished he hadn't. Makepeace called attention to it, and awarded twenty points to Slytherin. Severus wanted to sink through the floor. The end of the two-hour class couldn't come quickly enough, and when it did, Severus fled the classroom without looking back, hurrying to avoid the rush.

He had a half-hour break before Care of Magical Creatures. Lacking any of his usual Slytherin comrades, Severus had no-one to discuss the lecture with. There was no-one to whom he could speak about how he had found Makepeace's attitude pretentious; that his behaviour was entirely too Gryffindor in nature; that he spoke far too openly about topics that required discretion. Since he had no-one to discuss these thoughts with, Severus brooded on them silently.

He dawdled so much on the way down to the grounds that he exited the double doors behind Lupin and Lily, although they had left the previous class much later than him. Not wishing to be noticed, he trod quietly upon the grass.

"I thought that was brilliant," Lily said to Lupin. She was speaking animatedly, as she always did when excited. "He seems to really know his stuff. I think he must be an ex-Auror, to have that level of expertise." Her voice dropped, but Severus could still hear her quite clearly. "What do you think of this club? The DA?"

"We'll have to wait and see," replied Lupin. "It's definitely worth a look though. Sirius and James are going. It sounds like... you know. The real thing."

He saw Lily's head nod, her curls bouncing. Severus frowned. He knew all about _the real thing, _and it definitely didn't have anything to do with some stupid school club. His curiosity was piqued, however. What were they talking about? He was ten or so paces behind them, but their voices carried in the still morning air. "Did he invite anyone else, aside from you lot and me?"

"Not that I saw. It's exciting, isn't it?"

It was at this point that Lily was joined by some of her giggling Hufflepuff friends, and their talk turned to more light-hearted topics. Severus, however, was left wondering about the conversation into the next class. What was the professor up to?

The Care of Magical Creatures class was crammed full of Hufflepuffs. As a general rule, Severus looked down on Hufflepuffs, but he supposed that there were worse people to be in a class with. Even a year ago, he would have relished the opportunity to be in a class with Lily, away from her more moronic Gryffindor comrades, but it was all different now. The minute she saw that he was in the class, she turned her back on him.

He tried not to dwell on it. Kettleburn spent the lesson showing them his herd of griffins. Severus admired the great, proud creatures. He liked the way their soft feathers transitioned handsomely into lion's fur in their back haunches.

They were sort of a cross between a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, he thought, as he held out a bucket of entrails to try and tempt the creature towards him. He wondered if there had ever been a cross between snake and lion.

The animal clacked its beak at him, disdainfully, and turned its head away.

* * *

The term had started on a Thursday, so before Severus knew it, it was already the weekend. He had a very full timetable, as Slughorn had noted. He was taking Defense, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It wasn't that he wanted to be an overachiever, he just found a lot of things interesting, and hadn't been able to decide between them.

He slept late on Saturday, rising around noon and stumbling up to lunch. He had Ancient Runes homework to do, but aside from that, he had nothing on his schedule.

As he settled down to eat, there was a tap on his shoulder. It was Wilkes.

"Meeting tonight," he said, quietly. "6th year boys' dormitory. Nine o'clock."

Severus nodded. Once Wilkes had left, he allowed the grin to creep over his face. The excitement stayed with him all day, and he descended from the library later that evening with his heart fluttering in his breast.

They were sitting in a rough circle when he arrived. Even Alecto was there, and Severus felt awkward at the presence of a girl in his dormitory.

Once he had sat, Rosier locked the door with a silent charm. Severus cast _muffliato, _just in case.

Rabastan spoke, from the shadows. "Before we begin, I would like to discuss the most important part of this meeting. The Dark Lord understands that we can't immediately respond to summons while we are here at school. My brother has relayed that – if we are summoned – we should make efforts to respond as soon as possible, but not if that would give our position away or incite suspicion among the staff. Bearing that in mind, he will not call on us for the normal meetings."

Severus felt slightly disappointed at this. Despite his fear and apprehension, he'd enjoyed the meeting over the summer. He'd been looking forward to more of them. The mark on his arm prickled uncomfortably, but he ignored it.

"Moving onto more scholastic topics... We've become aware of an interesting division in the Defence Against the Darks Arts class." A few of them glanced at Severus, who flushed. "For some reason, all the Slytherin NEWT students in Defence... with the exception of you, Snape... have been cloistered in a separate class."

"It's bullshit," Avery burst in. "All we did was read the stupid textbook. That Makepeace is an idiot."

Severus frowned. It didn't sound at all like the class that he had sat in on Thursday.

Mulciber gave a gentle cough, and attention snapped back to him. Although he wasn't the eldest, Severus noticed how the seventh years had begun to defer to him – even Rabastan. He wished he had the same power.

"It doesn't matter about the poor quality of teaching in this shit-hole," said Mulciber. "We have other people to learn from now. I think the key point that Rabastan is making is that this new professor has singled out all of the Dark Lord's followers – with the exception of you, Snape."

There was an apprehensive silence. Severus felt a flush rising in his cheeks.

"The key point that we have to determine is whether or not this is intentional. It might just be the usual prejudice against Slytherins... or something else. If it is, the Dark Lord needs to be informed as soon as possible."

"What's the other class like, Snape?" asked Rosier.

He shrugged. "It's different," he said. "Full of the usual Gryffindor do-gooders. We did a bit of practical stuff, but really, you're not missing much."

He knew that this was a lie. The rational part of his mind – the part that spoke in Lily's voice – told him that the lesson had been of spectacular quality. However, he suppressed it, wanting to downplay his difference from the other boys.

"I wonder why he's singled you out," said Mulciber. He was looking at Snape, his eyes narrowed. Severus shifted, uncomfortably.

"I wouldn't be able to attend a class on Friday afternoons," he said. "I've got Ancient Runes."

He was often the only Slytherin in his NEWT subjects, the others having declined to join such 'soft options'. Perhaps the reason that he was in the other class was nothing more than a timetabling issue. That made the most sense, he thought. The exclusion of the rest of the boys could be explained – as Mulciber said – by _the usual prejudice against Slytherins. _

Mulciber grunted. "Either way, I suppose we can peg this Makepeace down as a Dumbledore supporter, then, and possibly a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You should keep an eye on him, Snape."

Severus was about to mention the club that Makepeace had started, but stopped suddenly. To mention that would be to implicate Lily. Instead, he nodded silently, indicating his acceptance of the task.

Mindful of his new mission, Severus planned to keep an ear out for gossip when school returned on Monday, but it was hardly necessary. The school was abuzz with discussion about the new professor.

Severus supposed it was understandable. He did make a striking figure, with the horrific scar across one side of his face. There was also a slight air of strangeness about him, though Severus couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was almost as though he'd met him before, a long time ago. Whatever it was inspired a great dislike within Severus.

Unfortunately, to Severus's great displeasure, these feelings were not shared by the rest of the school. On the contrary, it seemed that Defence Against the Dark Arts was fast becoming everyone's favourite subject - everyone, that was, except for the older Slytherins.

He was thinking about that on Thursday when he descended into the to the quiet calm of the dungeons for his first NEWT Potions lesson.

There were thirteen students in the class. Severus knew, as soon as he counted, that he would be left sitting alone, and he was right. He would have chosen to sit by himself anyway, he told himself. Other people would just provide distraction.

He repeated this mantra to himself, trying to ignore the way Lily so pointedly averted her eyes from him, and the snickering of Black and Potter. Severus focused on his copy of _Advanced Potion Making _instead, re-reading the notes he had made over the summer. An idea occurred to him, and he dipped his quill in the ink.

_This Book,_ he wrote, carefully, _is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince._

Severus smiled at the nickname he had come up with over the summer. For some reason, writing it down made him feel a lot better about the entire day.

* * *

Thursday morning came quicker than Severus would have liked. He had considered the matter, and had decided that confronting Makepeace directly would be the best way to figure out the mystery of the divided classes, though it wasn't his favoured course of action. Even if Mulciber hadn't given him the task of finding out more about the professor, he would have wanted to move. He felt distinctly uncomfortably in the classroom, and took the stairs up to the seventh floor corridor with a feeling of dread in his stomach.

Severus timed his arrival for five to nine – not early, and not late – and immediately tried to make himself inconspicuous amongst the Ravenclaw sixth-years. Severus felt their unease at his presence, but the fear and loathing directed at him was an equal price to pay for the protection the group offered. Around them, the classroom began to fill. At exactly nine o'clock, Makepeace descended from the spiral staircase. Severus supposed the steps must have lead to his private quarters.

"Hi," he said, and at once the excited buzz that had steadily been growing louder was silenced. "You all did really well last week. However, there are some tactics I want to focus on. Well, it's not really a tactic... more like a set of principles."

Makepeace went on to explain about some abstract concept about the importance of balance and stance in casting defensive magic. It had a strange, foreign sounding name that Severus didn't catch, though he thought it sounded Chinese. Either way, the whole thing sounded very wishy-washy, and he quickly tuned out from Makepeace's explanation. Lily had worn her hair down today, and the morning light caught the curls around her face in a way that made his heart beat rather fast.

The class was divided into pairs again, but today they were limited only to disarming charms. Severus wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be demonstrating. He disarmed his partner almost immediately, but Makepeace did not call attention to him as he had the previous week. Severus felt rather put out by this. Instead, the professor focussed on Potter, praising his stance and balance.

Severus decided that anything that Potter could do intuitively was not worth learning.

By the end of the lesson, he was bored, bruised and entirely frustrated. Nevertheless, he knew he had to hang back after class. He waited in the corner while the rest of the class left in dribs and drabs. Finally, the classroom was empty, except for him and Makepeace. Severus sat on a cushion in his corner, waiting for the man to acknowledge him.

Makepeace didn't speak. He seemed to be completely focused on tidying the classroom, and removing errant burn-marks from the walls. After a few minutes of this, Severus decided he couldn't sit there forever. He coughed, pointedly.

Makepeace looked up in his irritating, faux-suprised way. "Severus," he said happily. "You're still here. Great! I meant to ask you last week, but you ran off before I got the chance. I'm having a get-together on Friday – just to go-over what we've done, and approach some spells which are too advanced for-"

Severus felt a hot sweep of anger in his belly. He was so incensed that he didn't wait for the professor to finish. "I don't care if you've turned the sixth-year class into your own private recruiting ground for Albus Dumbledore," he said, angrily, "but just so you know, I'm not one of his goody-two-shoes followers."

Makepeace stared at him, his mouth slightly open. The look pulled at the scar tissue on his face. He looked shocked by the strength of Severus's reaction, and he realised too late that he had shouted the words. He flushed, and it was a moment before Makepeace spoke. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"Severus," he said, delicately. "I'm sorry to have offended you. My class – none of my classes – are recruiting grounds for the Order of the Phoenix. It's just a chance for advanced students to practice their skills."

The bald-facedness of the lie made Severus angrier.

"If that's the case, why have you dumped all the Slytherins in another class? I know for a fact that Mulciber got at least an E in his Defence OWL. What would your hero Dumbledore think of that? Not a very _egalitarian_ attitude."

The curse – or whatever it had been – that had ravaged his face mutilated all expressions. It was because of this that Severus avoided looking him in the eyes at all costs. He looked at the desk instead, focusing his rage on a single knot in the woodwork.

"Ah," said Makepeace. "Hmm. Would you like to join the other Slytherins in the senior remedial class? "

"Remedial," he spat. " Just because I don't blindly follow this anti-dark-arts rubbish-"

Makepeace rubbed his forehead in a tired sort of way. "Severus, remind me what the name of my class is. It's true I don't just follow O.W.L. results. I look for certain... other qualities."

"And what 'other qualities' might those be?"

"Not being evil," Makepeace said, simply. Severus blinked. "I have discussed this matter with the Headmaster, and he has reluctantly agreed with me. While I do not think it is fair to divide the younger students thusly, by the time a witch or wizard has come of age – or is about to do so – I believe that it is plain on what side of the divide they have fallen."

_Tread carefully,_ said a voice inside Severus's mind. "So, what, you get into sixth year and you're beyond redemption?"

"No-one is ever beyond redemption," said Makepeace, quietly. "I refuse to teach certain students because I know that they will misuse what they learn. Within a year or two..." he trailed off. "Within a year or two, they will be using those skills to murder, torture and rape.

Severus found his voice again, unable hold back the thing that had been roiling within him. "Unlike Black and Potter," he spat. "They'd just use what they learn to rescue_ kneazle kittens_."

He was sure Makepeace would leap to their defence, given the way he had fawned over Potter in the previous lesson, but the teacher merely looked at him for a long moment.

"I want you to come to the class in spite of people like them. I know how they treat you. If there is ever any manner in which I can assist you, you need only ask."

Severus scowled. "I don't need your help," he muttered. "I can handle it myself."

Makepeace seemed to be thinking. "Look, if you really don't want to be part of my advanced class, and refuse on principle to pursue the remedial class, then I suppose I'll have to find something else to do with you."

"I'll just drop it," he said. "Seeing as it's so much trouble for you." He scuffed his foot on the bare boards.

"You will not," said Makepeace. He paused. "I was wondering... My Monday evenings are free. If you want, I can schedule your lesson then. We can go over anything that interests you."

"My lesson?" Severus asked, blankly.

"The marks you received on your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL were the highest in the last thirty-four years. It would be my honour to tutor you privately in the subject, if you so wish."

Severus stared at him.

"I wouldn't have to come to this class?" he asked. "Just the one in the evening?"

The left side of Makepeace's mouth quirked upwards in what could almost be called a smile. "If that's what you'd like." After Snape didn't reply for several moments, Makepeace's smile widened. "Think about it," he said. "I'll be waiting here, either way."


	5. Defensive Strategies

_This chapter is something of a short one, my apologies! There are a few monster ones in the making, so stay tuned! Hi to all my new followers... thanks for the interest ;) It is fuel for the creative fire! _

* * *

**Defensive Strategies**

Severus considered the proposition over the next few days.

He had to think about it between his NEWT course load, which – to his surprise – required nearly all of his attention. As well as taking an unusually large amount of courses, the subject matter itself was more difficult than ever before. It was only the second week, and already he had four essays to write and a particularly complex potion to research.

Severus knew he was more intelligent than everyone in the year. He often felt that his teachers overlooked him, in favour of fawning over charismatic characters like Potter and Black. Still, he found the work challenging. It was good, in a way, because it left less time in the evenings for his mind to wander to... other things.

For this reason, Severus found that he was spending most evenings of the new semester squirrelled away in the library. There was a corner of which he was particularly fond. He was hidden from view by the shelves around him. Last year, these had been the hours he'd spent with Lily. Long after she had drifted away from him in other social contexts, their study sessions had remained. They'd stopped after he'd said the thing that he'd said, and now the hours of study seemed lonely and dull without her.

As he sat, scratching out calculations for Arithmancy, he pondered upon whether he liked seeing her in classes or not. Almost out of habit, his heart rose when he saw her in class; but of course, any positive feelings he might have had were dashed instantly as soon as she averted her eyes from where he sat, or scowled at him with disdain.

He shifted in his seat, and flipped open his mother's potions book. Frowning slightly, he dipped his quill in ink, and wrote in an empty border:

**_M's Tutoring_**

**_Pros:_**

_Might learn new things_

_Less time with Them (and Her)_

**_Con:_**

_M is mentally unbalanced and I dislike him_

He smirked slightly at his concise assessment of the situation. There was the other reason, as well, though he did not dare to write it down. Spending more time with Makepeace would help him achieve the task that had been set for him. That, in turn, could lead to... well.

He didn't trust the new Defence teacher. The man assumed an air of familiarity that made him uncomfortable. He was always acting like he was everyone's friend. That behaviour was far too... _Gryffindor-ish_, in Severus's opinion. His ideas about good and evil were infantile. There was something in his manner that inspired a deep dislike and distrust in Severus, too, though he couldn't say what it was. Despite the advantages of reporting useful information to Rabastan, Severus couldn't help but feel that it would best to stay as far away from the new professor as possible.

And yet...

And yet, the whole business had awoken a flutter in his stomach. It was a wish buried so deep that he could barely acknowledge it. The idea that somebody _noticed _him. That he was _special. _He thought he'd found it that summer, when he'd sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord, but that had been more of the same, in the end.

It couldn't hurt. Just once, to find out if it was any good.

"Evening, Snivellus."

Severus snapped the book shut with lightning quickness. Black was leering at him from across the table.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Temper temper," said Black, flopping into the chair opposite him. Casually, he reached out a hand to the book that Severus had slammed shut. Without hesitation, Snape slammed his drawing compass down point-first, inches from Black's hand. The instrument quivered slightly on the table-top, and Black withdrew his hand.

"What do you want?" repeated Severus, through gritted teeth.

"I just came over to say hi," said Black, grinning to show his very white, very straight teeth. "What-cha working on over here?" He leaned, theatrically attempting to read Severus's work upside-down.

Instead of replying, Severus stared at him in complete silence. Black met his gaze, and after a long moment, his grin faltered.

Severus had spent long nights over the summer reading about Legilimency, and he figured today was as good a day as any to put the theory into practice. He narrowed his eyes slightly, focussing on Black's pupils. There was a flash of something, so brief and vivid that he had no real concept of what it had been. He saw Black's eyes widen slightly, with something like fear.

"Whatever," he said, hurrying to get to his feet. "You're such a freak, Snape."

He knew that Black would be back later, with reinforcements. He would have to find somewhere else to hide from now on.

It was with mixed feelings that he began the long climb to the seventh-floor corridor on Monday evening. The day had been a long one, and more than anything he wanted to curl up by the fire and sleep.

Severus paused for a moment in front of the large, oak door. He took a deep breath, and knocked. The latch clicked, and he pushed his way inside.

"Well, Severus? Have you made a decision?"

Makepeace's lopsided face was leering at him from over the banister.

Severus looked up at the professor, somewhat sourly. "I'm not sure," he said, truthfully, as Makepeace trotted down the staircase. He paused, and then asked the question that had been bothering him. "What do you _want_?"

"Peace amongst wizard kind," said Makepeace, promptly. Severus stared at him until he looked abashed. "On the more local level, I'd like to help you."

"I don't need any help. I don't need your pity." He cast his eyes downwards, at the softly matted floor.

"I don't pity you. I just think you would do better outside of the regular class." The professor paused, seeming to consider the matter. "And I'd like your help."

"My help?" asked Severus, surprised. He was so surprised, he forgot to be sullen. "Whatever for?"

Makepeace shrugged. "I've found it's always good to collect different perspectives. I don't really know anyone outside of class. Do you mind giving me the run-down on who everyone is?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't know anybody," he muttered.

"I don't think that's true. I think you're an outsider, like me. I'd like your point of view."

Severus hesitated, but for some reason, the idea was pleasing to him. There were around fifty students in his year, although he knew only a quarter well. The Slytherin group often ran smaller than the others, and Severus prided the selectiveness and élite nature of his house. There were only eight Slytherin sixth-years, in contrast to ten Gryffindors, thirteen Ravenclaws and around twenty Hufflepuffs. Unbeknownst to his classmates, Severus observed them from the sidelines.

"I don't know how much I could tell you," he said, uncertainly.

Makepeace cocked his head to one side. "Who are the key players?"

Severus bit his lip. "Well, there's Black and Potter, for a start. They've got a little gang of four, you met them on the train."

"What are they like?"

Severus snorted. "One's a coward. One's a freak of nature. One's a blood traitor, and the other one is the most arrogant git you'd ever have the misfortune to meet. I'll let you figure out which one's which."

Makepeace smiled at this, as though it confirmed something which he had already known. Severus found this encouraging, so he continued.

"So, that's the Gryffindor boys. What about-"

"There's the Ravenclaws," said Severus, speaking quickly to hide his nervousness. "There's new boy in Ravenclwa, he arrived last year. They say he's from China, but I don't know much about him." He remembered watching him being sorted the previous year: A towering elm tree amongst new saplings. "I think our year is dominated by the Slytherins and Gryffindors, though." He knew that it was slightly conceited, but it was true.

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "Everyone follows Potter and Black. The people who don't... they fall in with our group: Mulciber's group. There's no middle ground, and most of the Hufflepuffs are on Potter's side. The Ravenclaws..." he shrugged. "I'd say fifty-fifty."

"And the girls?"

His heart beat slightly faster.

"Don't know so much about them. Narcissa's popular. She's in seventh-year, though."

"Do they fall into the same divide, though? Who leads the Gryffindor faction?"

They were nearly there, now.

"Evans..." he said, and stopped. He sounded like Potter: calling her by her last name, to imply that she was of less importance to him then she really was. He corrected himself. "Lily. She'll probably be Head Girl next year."

"I thought she might be important," he said. "But the social order of teenagers is quite indecipherable to me, I'm afraid. I appreciate your help."

Severus wanted to say that the social order of teenagers was also indecipherable to him. It was a witty sort of thing, that Makepeace would surely have laughed at. He wanted to talk about Lily more, too. How every year she was top of Charms, and usually drew with him for the top spot in Potions. How she was the most popular girl in their year, and how every teacher liked her.

By the time all this had run through his head, however, the moment where either comment would have been appropriate or amusing had passed. He wished, not for the first time in his life, to be somebody different.

Makepeace was watching him, with his strange, lopsided gaze. The flickering lamplight glinted off his monocle.

"Why are you so interested, anyway?" he asked suddenly, somewhat aggressively. Makepeace, who by now seemed to have become accustomed to Severus's abrupt changes in temper, shrugged.

"I just am. Besides, it's useful to me as a teacher, to know these things." Makepeace thrummed his fingers on the desk. "Anyway, about your lesson..." Severus snorted. Makepeace squinted at him. "Is something funny?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't think you have anything to teach me, Sir," he said. He had tried to say the words in a cool, disdainful way, but Makepeace merely laughed. He got out his wand, and twirled it between his fingers.

"We should settle this with a duel," said the professor, solemnly.

"What?" said Severus.

"Er... We should have a duel. If you win, I'll stop bothering you, and if I win, you have to attend _either_ the advanced class, or a private tutorial with me on Mondays. And you have to admit that I have something to teach you. "

Severus stared at him, mouth slightly open.

"Unforgivables are off-limit, as is anything that will cause immediate death. Loser is the first one to cry 'uncle'."

He found his voice. "I'll get expelled if I gravely injure a teacher." This was the least of his objections, but it was the one that was simplest to voice.

Makepeace grinned with what Severus considered dangerous overconfidence. It pulled the scar on his face in a most unattractive way. "That won't be a problem, I assure you." He offered his hand. "Do you agree to my terms?"

Severus took it, and shook once. "Sure," he said. He took a step back, and shrugged. "When do we start-"

The hex hit him full in the chest.

* * *

Severus had never seen anyone move so fast. The professor seemed to know what he was _thinking. _He was hiding temporarily behind a desk, trying to catch his breath. His cheek was burning from a hex he had barely dodged. He heard Makepeace yell, and rolled out from behind the desk as it shattered.

Severus threw the jinx that had caught Makepeace the last time they had duelled, but the spell merely bounced off him. Furious, he screamed the first spell that came to mind.

"_Sectumsepra!" _

But Makepeace wasn't where he had been a second before, and the spell merely carved a deep slash in the wall. Severus felt something catch behind him, and suddenly he was upside-down, fighting a terrible nausea that threatened to overpower him.

"SAY UNCLE!" Makepeace bellowed.

"Uncle," he muttered, so quietly that he was sure Makepeace couldn't have heard. However, the levitation spell suddenly loosened its grip on him, and Severus fell to the heavily padded floor with a_ thump._

He lay face down for a long minute. Finally, he raised his head. There was the sound of rhythmic, singular applause.

"That was very encouraging," Makepeace said. He offered Severus his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

Every muscle in his entire body hurt. His chin was bleeding from when he'd fallen. It was all he could do to crawl into an armchair that hadn't been there a moment before.

Makepeace took the other chair that had appeared, flopping down with a casual grace.

"Er..." he said. "Right. Your reflexes are strong. Very quick. They need to be quicker. You're very unfit, which doesn't help." Makepeace paused, examining him intently. "Never get angry. Never think about what you are doing. It has to be beneath thinking. It has to be your own nature. You need to work on your defensive strategies."

Severus said nothing, marinading in his own humiliation. He registered Makepeace's advice, but part of his mind was on something else entirely.

"This room," he said, slowly, "is always changing."

"Yes," said Makepeace, smiling. "It's a delightful piece of magic. I was sorry it was lost when... It is a useful piece of magic."

"It works to your advantage?"

"I use the powers of the room to my advantage. You must learn to do the same, of any environment you find yourself in." The professor proffered a poultice to him. Severus sniffed it, and then pressed it to his chin. It had been soaked in Murtlap Essence, and provided immediate relief to his throbbing chin. Something else had occurred to him.

"In our first class," he said. "You let me hex you, didn't you."

Makepeace shrugged. "I thought it was only fair to give you a chance. The others were laughing at you."

He felt a hot flush of anger and shame. "Don't patronise me," he said. "I can deal with them."

Makepeace inclined his head slightly, perhaps in apology.

"I noticed you re-used the jinx," though, said the professor. "Very smart of you."

Severus scowled. "Can I go?" he asked. Makepeace looked a little crestfallen.

"Of course," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "I'll see you next week then. Unless..."

"I gave my word," said Severus. He stood up, and his body protested loudly. "Next Monday, same time." As he limped to the door, he thought with dread about the long climb down to the Slytherin Dungeons. If only he didn't have to walk the whole way...

But to his shock, when the door opened, it did not lead to the airy, seventh-floor corridor, but to a dark, stony passageway that Severus knew was only two minutes walk from the common room. He spun around. The window still showed a view of the grounds, which was completely impossible given the altitude of the corridor. It made his head spin.

"As I was saying," Makepeace said, smiling, "use the powers of the room to your advantage. Goodnight, Severus."

* * *

The excitement of the new term had blended quickly into the mundanely of everyday life. His life seemed to have become a Sisyphean cycle of classes, homework and revision. The cuts and bruises from Makepeace's 'lesson' took several days to heal. Severus was unsure of why he did not heal them immediately with magic. His face ached, as well, for a new pimple had sprung up on his cheek. It sat there, red and stubborn, like a beacon.

He did not attend Makepeace's Thursday morning class, or the later training session, despite an itching desire to try again. He saw enough of the Gryffindor idiots in all his other NEWT classes. Besides, he wanted time to think about things, and time to compose his strategy.

He hadn't bought Makepeace excuse that he was _just interested _in the layout of the sixth year. Surely that level of interest was not normal. It gave credence to the theory that Makepeace really was up to something... subtly trying to determine who could be recruited to his stupid cause. He would have to be careful.

On Thursday evening, he cornered Rabastan in the common room. He explained, briefly, what he had found out, and what he suspected. Rabastan seemed pleased with his work, and positively delighted that he would have more time alone with Makepeace to glean information.

"You'll have to gain his trust, Snape," said Lestrange, and Severus nodded.


	6. An Encounter with Centuars

_Very sorry for the long delay! I've been busy with school. There's been a title change also. Eep. _

* * *

By the Monday following, Severus felt as though he had finally managed to fall back into the routine of regular classes. He stumbled down to breakfast well before eight o'clock, in time to snag a piece of bacon before it was all gone. He picked up the Prophet, rubbing his face blearily.

_Werewolf Pack Threatens Village, _he read. He flipped the page. _Ministry considers harsher restrictions. _ Severus's eyes flicked downwards. _Minister for Magic, Milicent Bagnold (73), spoke yesterday with reporters about the importance of staying calm in the face of new evidence that..._

The cramped print swam before his eyes, and he yawned so widely that his jaw cracked. He had neglected to complete his practical Charms homework for the lesson that afternoon. Flitwick would notice, he was sure. Severus had never had an aptitude for Charms. In previous years, he had had Lily to help him. Now, Severus sat with Mulciber during Charms, as Avery had flunked his OWL and Wilkes wasn't interested in the subject. It was not an ideal arrangement.

He hunched his shoulders as he walked to class, and kept his eyes down. He would have to see Makepeace this evening, he thought gloomily. _On top of everything else! _

He arrived to class before Mulciber, and tried desperately not to catch anyone's eye as the other students filed in. He slumped into his chair, dropping his wand and books onto the desk in front of him, and closed his eyes.

"Morning," said a sly voice by his ear, and Severus instantly went for his wand.

It wasn't there.

Potter came from around the desk. Severus's wand was in his hand, and he twirled it absently. Snape could feel Black's presence behind him. He knew that there was no point diving at Potter. They'd done this to him before. They had magic, and he didn't. It wouldn't even be a fight. He cursed himself for leaving his wand unattended – he couldn't _ever_ let his guard down, not even for a moment.

Severus couldn't think of a way out of his predicament, so he stared stonily ahead. Pettigrew darted forwards and grabbed his charms textbook. As he did, the cover slipped from the binding, which caused Potter, Black and Pettigrew to roar with laugh. Severus felt a muscle in his jaw began to twitch. His heart was beating very fast.

"Sad, really," said Black, from behind him. "As well as being ugly and stupid, you're also poor, Snape. It doesn't seem fair."

Severus heard someone laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lily looking in the opposite direction in a determined sort of way. He stood up. Potter laughed, and he felt Black tense behind him.

"Morning, Snape."

Relief that Severus would never acknowledge flooded through him. Mulciber had entered the classroom, and was eying them all with a look of disdain. Potter and Black shared a quick glance. Potter let go of Snape's wand, and it clattered noisily onto the desk. Severus grabbed it at once. Pettigrew was slow on the uptake, but after Potter nudged him, he too let go of the torn remains of Snape's text-book. Almost casually, the three drifted back to their seats.

Snape collapsed into his chair. His heart was racing. Mulciber gave him a patronising look. "Keep your wand on you next time, Snape," was all he said.

After the confrontation, Flitwick's lecture went mostly over his head. Severus knew that he would have to revise it later, on top of all his other homework, but he couldn't bring himself to focus. Most of his attention was on stopping himself from shaking. Severus watched a spider daintily make its way across the desk. It had long legs and a small, dark body. _Like me, _thought Severus, except that he never managed to walk with as much dignity.

"Therefore," said Flitwick, loudly, "today's lesson will focus on the more theoretical aspects of-"

Mulciber was doing something to the spider. Severus thought he knew what it was. The spider pranced along the end of the desk, its walk suddenly changed. The trick of it was that Mulciber wasn't moving a muscle. His hand rested lightly on his wand, and his eyes followed the movement of the spider, but aside from that, he gave no outward indication that he had any relation to it. It made Severus uncomfortable, but he didn't feel able to do anything.

The spider ran across the floor. It crawled across Mary McDonald's shoe and then raced up her leg.

The class was suddenly split by a shriek as she leapt from her seat, brushing her legs and screaming. Flitwick – who had been in the middle of explaining certain aspects of wandless magic – tumbled over backwards in alarm.

Harriet and Viola – Slytherin girls Severus had little to do with - shrieked in delighted mirth.

McDonald was so upset that she was unable to continue in the class, so Lily escorted her to the hospital wing. She gave Severus a filthy look on her way out, although it hadn't been his doing. He would have tried to explain that to her, if she hadn't looked so angry. That was the problem with Lily, these days. She never had time to listen to his side of the story.

The whole affair left him greatly rankled, and he spent the rest of the day in a dark temper. He trudged up to Makepeace's lesson with brooding resentment in his heart. When he opened the door, he came face to face with Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape," said Dumbledore. "I was just leaving." He smiled. Severus blinked, and nodded at him. His mouth felt very dry, as the headmaster's presence always put him on edge. He waited until the old man had disappeared down the corridor, and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Hi," called Makepeace. He was on the mezzanine floor above the classroom, but made to descend as Severus entered.

"What was _he_ doing here?"

"The _headmaster_ and I were discussing current affairs."

Snape knew he should pursue the matter further. This was _exactly_ the sort of information Mulciber had asked him to uncover! He'd had a long day, however, and didn't remotely feel like it. "So," he said, resentfully. "_Sir_. What am I supposed to do this evening?"

"Well, I thought we'd work on your footwork. It's... not good. And you don't need to call me Sir."

"Right," he said. "Professor. Where shall we start?"

* * *

In the end, the lesson turned out to be something of a wash. Severus had expected something more exciting after the duel last week – would have relished in the opportunity to let off steam. However, there was no spell-casting at all. He didn't even have a wand. Makepeace had given him a wooden stick to 'practice' with. They spent the hour circling on another.

"Think with your feet," the professor kept repeating. "And stand up straight."

He'd never done anything so stupid in his life, and he felt even more irritable and snappish at the end of the hour than he had at the beginning.

"You seem distracted," said Makepeace, as Severus was leaving. Snape glowered at him. "Goodnight!" the professor called loudly after him.

Severus _was_ distracted, it was true, but it wasn't Makepeace's business to comment on it. His mind was on Lily when he left the room. They'd caught each other's gaze briefly during dinner. She'd looked away at once... but why had she been looking at him in the first place? He wondered if he should have acted differently during Charms... but he'd been so angry about Potter and Black that...

Severus rounded the corner, and nearly ran into _her. _

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She was clutching a textbook to her chest. Of course, he thought, this passage was near to the Gryffindor common room. Evidently, the room had decided against depositing him on a lower floor this evening.

"Free country, isn't it?" he spat back at her. He had no interest in explaining his lessons with Makepeace to anyone. Ignoring the shocked and irritated look on her face, he pushed past her, wanting to return quickly to the dungeons.

* * *

Severus's life seemed to be falling into some sort of routine, albeit a strange one. School-work and extra study kept him comfortably busy. Makepeace's lessons - though they often seemed boring and irrelevant - provided some small point of interest for his otherwise dull schedule. On Fridays, he passed on any skerricks of information he'd managed to glean about his professor - a meeting with Dumbledore, or thea mention of a ministry colleague - to Mulciber.

Perhaps it was because of these new activities, but the semester felt different to all his previous ones at Hogwarts. There was a change in the air. The atmosphere inside the castle seemed different this year; darker, and more oppressive, somehow. It was as though the forces that worked outside of Hogwarts - the Ministry, the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix – were physically pressing up against the ancient stone walls that surrounded them.

Severus couldn't afford to take the Daily Prophet every day, but there was usually a copy lying around. Severus couldn't really believe that these things –exciting, dangerous things – were going on outside Hogwarts.

Potter and Black were different too. Severus had gathered from Regulus that there had been some sort of confrontation over the summer, the result of which was that his elder brother had been expelled from their house, and asked not to return. Black had been living with Potter over the summer, and a result they seemed more synchronised than ever. Their harassment of him had also seemed more frequent, but maybe he was imagining that.

Then there was the club that Makepeace had founded...

The club's official name was the Defence Association. That was what Professor Makepeace called it, anyway. Sometimes, however, when Severus was in the corridors or in the library, he overheard those select students who had been chosen to attend – Black and Potter prominent amongst them – calling it something different. It was a stupid nickname, made up by children who didn't understand the severity of their actions, but still, the name persisted, whispered behind hands, written on notes passed between them in class.

_Dumbledore's Army. _

It made him fume. _As if_ they knew anything about the real world outside of Hogwarts. He scratched at his arm, absent-mindedly. The brand itched oddly at times, though he was sure it wasn't an official summons.

Perhaps the atmosphere came from within him. His sixth-year was also dominated by a profounder sense of loneliness than he had ever felt before in his life. He'd been alone as a child, of course, but it had been different back then. He'd been too young to consider his own position. He was alone, but he didn't know what it was to have friends and so did not miss them. That'd changed after he'd met Lily. No matter how bad anything had been since then, he'd had her. She'd been there for him, always, but not anymore.

A change to his routine came in the first week of October, in the form of a note. It wasn't delivered by owl, but arrived via paper-aeroplane on Sunday morning.

_Severus. _

_Meet me at the greenhouses at 2pm. We're going for a walk_

_HJM_

He groaned. He had other work to do, of course, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ignore the note or not. At 2pm, he trooped down to the greenhouses, where, sure enough, Makepeace was waiting, the bright sunlight glinting off his monocle.

"Does this replace my Monday lesson?" Severus asked, before saying hello.

"Yes, I suppose. I thought it'd be fun."

"Fun," said Severus, voice dripping with sarcasm. Makepeace gave him an awful smile, and set off at a brisk trot.

His legs were so long that Severus almost had to run to keep up. He was slightly out of breath by the time they reached the shadow of the forest. Severus stared at Makepeace in consternation.

"I'm not going in there," he said. Makepeace pulled a face.

"Come on," he said. "It'll be fun."

Severus thought the two of them had a very different idea of 'fun'. He relented though. He was intrigued, and his curiosity overrode his fear. They set off. It was pleasant at first. The sun-dappled path was cool, and the forest was alive with sounds. He could hear the birds singing, and the flittering of insects and small animals in the undergrowth. If Severus stuck a little close to Makepeace's shadow than was necessary, well... no-one could blame him.

The path became narrower, and stopped entirely when they came to a burbling stream.

"What now?" asked Severus in a whisper, although he wasn't sure why he was whispering. In answer, Makepeace sat down and began unlacing his boots. Severus followed his lead, as Makepeace stepped barefoot into the stream. Severus could feel winter coming in the water. He'd tied his laces together and hung his boots around his neck, and they knocked against his chest as he walked. He had to stoop low in places to make it through the thick undergrowth.

The rocks were very slippery. He'd cut his foot, grazed his knee after falling and been hit in the face by two separate branches by the time they finally arrived in a dappled clearing. Severus wiggled his toes in the wet mud, delighting at the feeling. He climbed out, straightening up fully for the first time in ages.

"It's peaceful," he said. It was. He wondered if he would have the courage to come here alone. Makepeace beckoned, silently, and Severus followed him. The clearing widened out to reveal a crumbling stone circle. Severus was about to open his mouth, to ask if this was the end of their journey, when he felt the magic.

It came up through his feet, still bare on the soft moss. It reverberated in his bones, up his spine, out through the tips of his fingers. A moment later, the sensation had passed.

"What is it?" he asked, in a whisper.

"Old," said Makpeace, simply.

He went to examine one of the stones. There were runes upon them, but none that he recognised. He began to copy them into his notebook anyway. Perhaps he'd be able to translate them later. Curious, he followed the circle. It led to a low, crumbling retaining wall.

"It's the foundations of Hogwarts," Makepeace said.

"What?"

"The school itself is a living thing, of sorts. It grows, and moves. It has a mind of its own, and evolves following its own whims."

Severus digested this. It contradicted with a lot of what he'd read. Then again, so did a lot of what Makepeace said to him.

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked.

"You believe in that story, then?"

"Yes," Severus said, somewhat defiantly.

"Good. The Chamber too has moved and evolved since its creation. For one thing, they didn't have indoor plumbing in Salazar Slytherin's day."

This was such an odd comment to make that Severus looked up. He came face-to-face with centaur's drawn arrow-point.

* * *

While they'd been talking, the centaurs had surrounded them. There must have been twenty in total. All had bows, and all looked angry. Their hooves hadn't made a sound upon the moss.

"Ah," said Makepeace. He took a step towards Severus. There was an undercurrent to his voice that Severus had never heard before. Was it fear?

"You shouldn't have come here," said a huge, raven-haired centaur. "You are unnatural. An abomination. This is a sacred place."

The circle hissed.

"I am sorry," said Makepeace. He looked up, as though he were trying to see the sun through the thick branches of the trees. He took a hold of Severus's arm with extreme firmness. Severus tried to shrug him off, but Makepeace's grip was implacable. "I will be going. We will be going. Sorry."

Severus wasn't entirely sure what happened next. He had a sudden feeling of weightlessness, which coincided with the sensation that he'd left his stomach behind. A branch whipped across his face, slicing his cheek open. And then...

They were in the open air above the forest, and rising fast. Makepeace's wand was pointed downwards, and Severus realised he must have propelled them from the earth with some kind of charm.

If he had not been too busy feeling queasy, and gripping Makepeace's arm for dear life, he would have enjoyed the view as the world unrolled beneath them. Hogwarts sat on the hill, like a little toy castle. The trees they'd left behind were no larger than twigs. And still, they climbed.

Severus shut his eyes, and, at that moment, they reached the apex of the great arc, and began to fall.

"What now?" screamed Severus, as the wind tried to rip his words away. The ground was approaching with alarming speed. In answer, Makepeace flicked his wand. Severus felt suddenly weightless. He looked for Makepeace, but the man had completely disappeared. Dazed, Snape drifted back to earth like a crow's feather. His descent took several minutes.

He landed on the grass near the lake, so lightly that it hardly bent beneath him. There was an outbreak of giggling. A group of Hufflepuff girls were laughing at him. Furious, he turned his back on them. The wind buffeted him on the way back to school, and he felt that with every step he would blow away.

The weightlessness charm Makepeace had cast upon him had not been lifted upon his return to the ground. No counter-curse he tried would end its effects. It took all his strength to push open a door, and the slightest gust of wind would push him flat on his face. Fuming, Severus went to the seventh floor, but Makepeace wasn't in his office. The door to his classroom had disappeared entirely. Severus slumped, defeated.

He spent an excruciating hour searching for his professor. He couldn't bear to think what would happen if Black or Potter came across him in this state. Giggles and stares followed him wherever he went.

He found Makepeace in the Owlery, in the end. The man looked slightly windswept. "Severus," he said, with his usual tone. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Take it off," he growled. "Take it off, _now_."

Makepeace looked completely confused, and then, to Severus's extreme annoyance, started laughing.

"It's not funny!" he yelled. Makepeace flicked his wand, and Severus collapsed under the sudden force of gravity, restored at last. It was this final indignity that burst the damn inside him. He could feel his face twitching.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are!"

Makepeace stopped laughing. He blinked, lopsidedly. "Severus, I-"

"No," he said. "I'm done. You can forget about it." He turned to go, but Makepeace caught him buy the arm. "_Let go!_"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in danger, I-"

The fact that Makepeace thought that it had been about the _danger_ made Severus even angrier. He wanted to scream at the man, but he couldn't think what to say first.

"I'm sick of this. I hate your stupid lessons. _I don't want anything to do with you._"

With an almighty tug, he wrenched his arm free of Makepeace's grip. He took off down the Owlery steps, leaving his professor standing alone.


	7. Hallowe'en

Severus awoke very suddenly on the Monday morning following his confrontation with Makepeace. He sat up, blinking, and glanced around the dark dormitory. The other boys were still sleeping, except Mulciber, who was missing entirely. It must be early, he thought. Quietly, he padded into the adjoining bathroom. Severus washed his face under the cold tap, scowling at his reflection. His pimples seemed to have gotten worse since the previous day.

On a whim, Severus decided to explore the castle. The pre-dawn stillness was comforting to him after the turbulent weekend. The school was peacefully asleep, with no-one to acknowledge his passing. He climbed to the top of the old Defence Against the Dark Arts tower. It was empty, now that Makepeace had chosen the other room for his classes. His footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell. By the time he reached the top of the tower, there was just enough light to see the outline of the grounds, though everything was still in shades of grey. The air was bitingly cold, and he blew on his hands to warm them. Slowly, colour seeped into the landscape as the sun rose. Severus stood there for some time, appreciating the view. Some small bird of prey – possibly a kestrel, though he wasn't sure – flew past him with a screech.

Distantly, he heard the bell sound for seven o'clock. Yawning, he decided to get to breakfast early for once. As he walked down the deserted third floor corridor, he heard a gentle click. He stopped, and then spun around.

"Who's there?" he called. He gripped his wand defensively.

"_It's just Snape," _a voice hissed. A statue he'd just passed – a stone witch with a hump and an eye patch – creaked, and from behind it emerged Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange. Both boys looked tired, but also immensely pleased with themselves.

"Where have you been?" asked Severus, guardedly.

"Don't ask stupid questions," grunted Mulciber, but Lestrange winked at him. Severus hesitated.

"Were you out all night?" he asked. Lestrange put his finger to his lips, and then made a beckoning motion with his hand. Snape took it to mean he should walk down to breakfast with them.

Severus spent the next few days in a contemplative silence. What was he supposed to do now? Would Slughorn make him take some other class to make up for the one that he had missed? Would Lestrange question the lack of new information coming from him? As the week dragged on, however, Severus came to the depressing realisation that nobody noticed – or _cared_ – what his timetable looked like or which subjects he took.

Their year was also due to start apparition lessons. The next Saturday morning, he and the other 6th years trooped down to the lawn by the Quidditch pitch to practice. Severus wasn't sure how he was going to come up with the five galleon fee for the test next year. He hoped some windfall would come along before April.

Aside from this small point of interest, the term continued bleakly on, at a snail's pace. Over the next three weeks, Severus did his best to avoid everybody and talk to no-one. He spent even more time in the library, reading as much as possible. He revised Occlumency further, practising the techniques laid out in _The Secrets of the Mind. _

On a cold evening near the end of October, Severus found himself once again alone in the library on a Monday evening. The library was practically deserted, for which he was glad. Severus angrily crossed out a paragraph in his Charms essay. He stood up and stretched.

_If I hadn't had that fight with Makepeace, I'd be in our lesson right now. _Severus shook his head angrily, as though the thought was an irritating fly. Hardly acknowledging what he was doing, he wandered over the genealogy section. Severus ran his finger over the spines of the books, stopping at _Nature's Nobility. _He pulled the hefty tome from the shelf, and found a more secluded corner to study it in.

Glancing quickly over his shoulder to make double sure no-one was watching, he cracked the book open at the index, his finger tracing down the list of names. _MacDougal, Macmillan, Malfoy... Makepeace. _Severus noted the page number, and flicked back through the book.

_The Makepeace clan were a pure-blood family, descended from an offshoot of the Peverell family. The name has been extinct in the male line since 1427._

Severus frowned at this unhelpful summary. On the opposite page was an illustration of the Makepeace family tree, showing how it linked to the different wizarding families. He traced his finger up the branches. It had to be a false name, then. Or - he could just be Muggleborn. Surely there were Muggles by that name - there were so many of them. Perhaps the professor was half-blood, like Severus himself. Curious, Severus flicked through the book until he found the section on _Prince._

His own genealogy was nothing much to be proud of. The Princes had never been a very prestigious family to begin with, their blood constantly being diluted by Muggle marriages. Still, seeing his mother's name linked with so many powerful wizarding families made him feel deeply contented. For a moment, he felt a powerful sense of _connectedness _with his history and heritage. He smiled, and shut the book.

From between the shelves, he heard a tinkling laugh. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Cautiously, he stood up, and stalked over to the shelf the book had come from. From between a gap in the shelves, he saw Lily. She was sitting with Lupin, but, as he watched, the werewolf got up. "I'll see if I can find a reference for it," said Lupin, brightly, before disappearing into the stacks.

Severus shut his eyes, and lent his head against the oaken bookshelf. He counted to ten in his head, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the shelf.

"Excuse me," he said quietly. Lily started, looking up from her Charms homework with a frown. Severus found his voice with difficulty. "Is there... Is there a book that tells you all the Muggle names in England?"

"Why would _you_ be interested in that?" she asked coldly. Severus blushed, and shrugged. He was acutely aware of how stupid and ugly he looked, standing there in his patchwork robes.

"I was just wondering," he said. He had to fight to keep his voice civil. He didn't want to end up shouting at her again. His hands twisted the parchment he was holding.

Lily's expression softened. "Like a telephone directory?" she asked.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know what that is," he said, lamely.

"It's a list of names, with people's phone numbers attached."

"Where do you get one from?"

She shrugged. "Muggles get them delivered. The Muggle library usually has a store of them as well. But... usually they're just for a single town or city."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said. The smallest smile graced her lips.

"Who are you trying to find?" Lily looked curious, and not nearly as defensive as she had at the beginning of the conversation. She was wearing her hair down this evening, and it cascaded in ripples around her shoulders.

Severus opened his mouth, but no excuse came to him. He shrugged again. "Just wondering," he muttered.

For a stupid second, he thought that they were friends again. She would ask him to sit down, and he would help her with her Defence homework. She would revise his Charms essay, and together, they could work through the difficult potion Slughorn had assigned the class the previous week.

Lupin returned from around the shelf, carrying a pile of parchment. He stopped dead when he saw Snape, and the moment of fleeting insanity passed as quickly as it had come. Severus left without another word.

A few days after this awkward meeting, Severus was heading up to the Halloween feast with Avery and Mucliber. Quite suddenly, his left arm began to prickle and burn. He stopped dead, grasping his forearm tightly.

Severus knew at once that this was_ that_ call. He couldn't say how he knew, never having felt the sensation before, but he knew with absolute certainty that he had to go the Dark Lord at once. Excitement and apprehension battled within his belly. The feeling only increased when he realised Avery and Mulciber, walking several paces ahead of him, appeared not to have felt the call.

"Hey," he called, weakly. They turned.

"What?" asked Mulciber, looking annoyed. Severus opened his mouth but nothing came out. Mulciber snorted, and the two other boys turned their backs on him. His Dark Mark throbbed more strongly.

Severus knew what he needed to do. No-one asked where he was going as he turned against the tide of students and raced for the Western staircase. It wasn't used by students often, owing to the narrowness of the spiral, but Severus knew that it would be empty tonight. His footsteps echoed strangely in the empty tower, and he was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the secret exit at its base. He slipped into the dark grounds, unnoticed by anyone.

As he ran across the damp grass, he glanced up at the moon nervously. It was only half full. It wouldn't do to encounter Lupin tonight, of all nights.

The swaying branches of the Whomping Willow were silhouetted darkly against the sky. Severus whispered a quick charm to depress the knot on the trunk, and the branches froze in place. He glanced a final time over his shoulder, before slipping as quietly as he could into the tunnel. He lit his wand, and bowed his head slightly as he paced quickly along the passage. The tunnel was somewhat cramped, and his head occasionally brushed the rocky ceiling. Severus jogged along the tunnel, trying not to think about what had happened last time he had come this way.

_I must be outside the grounds by now, _he thought, just as his arm gave a particularly painful throb.

Though Severus had only had three apparition lessons, he had picked up the theory quickly, and was confident that he could do it now. The mark felt like it was physically _pulling_ him to where he needed to be. He gripped it tightly, and spun on the spot. There was a moment of blinding compression, and Severus landed awkwardly at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. The night air was cold on his face. He could hardly believe that this was happening. The iron gates opened at his trembling touch. Severus strode through the grounds, trying to keep his feelings of anxiety at bay. What if he had done something wrong and the Dark Lord was angry with him? And it was strange, wasn't it, that he alone should be summoned?

Uncertainly, he raised his hand to knock upon the front door, but before he could do so, it was opened by Lucius.

_Was it normal for Malfoy to open his own front door?_ he thought.

"Severus," said the man. "It's a pleasure to see you."

Snape at once felt awkward, in his ill-fitting school robes. Lucius, however, gave no sign that he had noticed. "I came as quickly as I could," said Severus. "I had to leave school grounds to disapparate. He isn't... I haven't kept him waiting, have I?"

Lucius put a hand firmly on his shoulder. "You've done very well. No-one saw you leave?"

"No. No-one." Snape swallowed. His heart was racing, and his legs felt strangely wobbly.

"Very good. Follow me." Severus did, and Lucius lead him quickly down darkly panelled corridor. There was no time to admire the grandeur as he had over the summer. Their footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet. They stopped in front of a particularly grand door. Lucius gestured for Severus to open it.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"No," said Malfoy. He patted Snape's shoulder. "You'll be fine. Go on." He was pushed into the drawing-room, and the door shut behind him with a click.

The Dark Lord's chair was facing the fire. Severus could see one of his spindly, pale hands resting on the arm of the chair. His breath caught in his throat.

"My Lord?" he asked. His voice caught in his throat.

"Severus. It is good to see you again."

He stood, fighting to remain calm, though he felt like he had been hit with a jelly legs jinx.

"I apologise, My Lord, for the delay in my arrival. I had to leave the school grounds to disapparate here."

The hand waved airily. "It is of no matter. I have been perfectly comfortable, and I understand the importance of your schooling. In fact, it is that particular topic for which I have brought you here tonight. How is the new term treating you?"

"Very well sir," he said, not at all sure where the conversation was heading. "I have begun a number of my NEWT subjects and-"

"Including Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Yes, Lord." Severus waited.

"We have become aware of the appointment of a certain... wizard... to the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. Rabastan tells me that you have developed something of a bond with the man."

Severus coughed. "He claims to have recognised my skill in the Dark Arts, and wished to tutor me privately. I believe..." he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"Yes?"

"I believe that he wishes to recruit me for the Order of the Phoenix."

"He is not aware of your status in our order?"

"No, my Lord."

"And the other lessons he gives to the children? What of them?"

Severus smiled. "Above OWL level, he has segmented the class into two. I think he fears some of the older students may... misuse what he teaches them."

He heard the Dark Lord laugh. "And what does he teach them?"

"I do not attend the regular class, my Lord. I... objected to it."

There was a pause. "Severus," said the Dark Lord. "It is a youthful disposition to act wildly on our emotions and objections. The better way – the Slytherin way – is to act respectfully towards others, and take the things that they offer us, even if we object to their principles."

Severus wondered what Lord Voldemort would do if he told him that he had stormed out of the private tutorial as well. He was very glad that he'd been practising Occlumency, and so could conceal his thoughts from even the Dark Lord.

He decided to pretend that the argument with Makepeace had never happened. Severus was sure he could seek out the man and beg to return to the class, no matter how embarrassing that would be. It would be better than disappointing the Dark Lord, anyway. Makepeace was bound to let him back in. He liked to see the best in people, and would love to think that Severus regretted his harsh words.

"I could," he began, tremulously, "re-enroll in the regular NEWT class, my lord, but I suspect that it would mean the end of my private sessions with the professor. If you would like me to gather information on Makepeace, the private session is surely the ideal place to do that. However, I think you should also know that he has started a private club, known as the Defence Association. It is my belief that he is using the club as a recruiting ground for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Is it possible for you to gain access to this club? Perhaps, to compile a list of names of the students that attend?"

Severus felt as though cold water had been poured on his insides. Lily was part of the club. Would he be putting her in danger, if he gave the Dark Lord her name?

"I already know the names of several members," he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Sirius Black is one of them."

"Ah, the blood traitor," said Voldemort. "Can you find out more?"

"Possibly," said Severus. His heart was beating fast. "It would appear suspicious if I was too eager to join the society. It's filled to the brim with the usual Gryffindor types. If my lord would grant me a few weeks – perhaps even until next year – I could gain access without arousing suspicion. "

"That would be excellent, Severus. There is no rush, and a true spy must act subtly and patiently." Severus felt a flush of pleasure at the word _spy._ "In the mean time, I would ask that you continue to observe the professor. Find out who he is and where he comes from. Find out his motives."

Severus smiled. This would be easy. Makepeace was practically bubbling over with stupid anecdotes. It would be easy to collect a sample of them for their side to digest. He hesitated, however.

"May I ask a question, my Lord?"

"Yes."

"Why the interest in Professor Makepeace?"

"Rookwood has brought me some interesting information, regarding his origins. It seems he appeared in the Department of Mysteries under unusual circumstances." The Dark Lord's hand beckoned him, and Severus hurried forwards, tripping on his own feet. Lord Voldemort turned his pale, gaunt face towards Severus's own, and ran a long, pale finger down his cheek"Continue you current role within his organisation. Gather what information you can, about his origins and his purpose here, and about his alliances. Do this thing, and you will be justly rewarded."

Severus understood himself dismissed. Keeping his mind carefully blank, he left the room.

Lucius explained that he would be returning via the floo network, to Honeydukes.

"The owner is... sympathetic... to our cause," he had said. "Best not to apparate again before you have your license. I'll be in contact with you soon." Severus hardly had time to protest this before he was pushed into the flames.

The owner of Honeydukes – a small, nervous man – ushered Severus down into the cellar, before opening a hidden trap door. Snape hardly remembered the walk back to school. The passage opened under the statue of the one-eyed witch he had seen Mulciber and Lestrange emerging from a few weeks ago. Although he had felt exhausted on the long walk home, when he fell into bed he could not sleep, but lay for hours, looking up at the mouldy canopy of his four-poster.

He had lied to the Dark Lord - a terrible offence. Still, _how_ could he have explained to Lord Voldemort that he was no longer speaking to Makepeace because the professor had dragged him into a forest filled with blood-hungry centaurs and then charmed him to float away?

It had been right to lie, Severus decided. He would just have to turn the lie into a truth later.


	8. An Unexpected Apology

Severus had an excuse ready if anyone asked about his disappearance, but no one did. No-one seemed to care what he did or where he went. The day after Halloween, his classes passed in a haze of confused emotions. Frequently throughout the day, he'd suddenly remember what had happened, and it was though his insides had been doused with icy water. At lunch, he ate nothing, as his stomach was squirming too much. How was he supposed to explain to Makepeace that he wanted to re-enrol in the lesson? What was going to happen to him if the professor refused him?

Despite his fears, Severus knew that there was no point putting it off. After his afternoon classes had finished, but before dinner, he began the long climb up the seven flights of stairs to Makepeace's room. In his mind, he went over and over what he should say to the professor. When he finally arrived in the corridor with the tapestry of dancing trolls, it was only to discover that the door to Makepeace's rooms had vanished. Severus gnawed his lip, and wondered about what to do. It wasn't that unusual for rooms and passages in Hogwarts to move around unexpectedly, but it still disrupted his plans. He decided to wait, though his nervousness grew with every minute that passed. Pulling out his potions book, he lent against the wall, trying to look casual. Barely ten minutes had passed before Severus heard laughter echoing down the corridor. Makepeace was walking with Potter. Both had broomsticks over their shoulders, and their robes were muddy and damp.

"_Oh_," said Potter, as soon as he saw Severus. Severus wasn't sure how it was possible to put so much disdain into a single syllable. He hunched his shoulders further. Clenching his fists, and doing his best to ignore Potter, Severus turned to his professor.

"Can I speak with you?" he asked. Potter smirked. Makepeace frowned slightly.

"Of course," he said. "James, I'll see you on Thursday?" Potter hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. Makepeace gave the smallest jerk of his head, and Potter left, glancing over his shoulder as he rounded the corner. "Good luck with the game on Saturday!" Makepeace called after him. Severus had to fight his groan. It was the opening match of the season on Saturday, and he would probably have to go. Severus wanted to sink through the floor.

"Where's your office?" asked Severus, awkwardly. Makepeace was pacing back and forward with his eyes closed.

"Where it normally is," he said. Severus turned, and the door had materialised out of nowhere. Makepeace gestured for him to go in, and Severus did. "You wanted to speak to me?" he asked, following him into the room.

There was no point waiting. "I wanted to apologise," said Severus, looking at his shoes. He felt embarrassed, but as the silence stretched, he felt compelled to look up. Makepeace was leaning against the door, squinting at Severus as though he were studying him.

"We argued three weeks ago. What's changed?"

Shrugging, Severus glanced around the room. The window was looking towards the mountains today. "I suppose I've had time to think about it. I'd like to be tutored by you again."

"Hmm," said Makepeace. This was proving harder than Severus had anticipated. He'd thought that Makepeace would immediately accept him back. Squinting through his good eye, Makepeace looked him up and down. "Why don't we go upstairs? We can have a chat."

This was the absolute last thing Severus wanted, but he felt that it would be unwise to disagree at this point. He clenched his hands in his pockets. _Remember the mission, _he told himself, and nodded.

The second floor of the room contained a number of battered armchairs and a strange assortment of items. The table and desks were scattered with books, newspapers and magical instruments. Strangely, there was also what Severus recognised as a Muggle television. Lily had had one like it in her sitting room. Makepeace flopped casually into a chair, and propped his chin on thumb and forefinger. Feeling extremely awkward, Severus sat down. His back was ramrod straight. The moment Severus opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a high-pitched whistle. Makepeace stretched and picked the pocket Sneakoscope of the table. He twisted it, and it went silent at once. Severus blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

Severus shook his head. He began to jiggle his leg nervously. Makepeace was smirking at him.

"So. You'd like to be tutored by me again. I have better things to do with my time, you know."

Severus looked down at his hands. It took all his self-control to speak. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Frankly, I don't see why I should bother, Severus. You're bratty, arrogant and rude. You obviously think you have nothing to learn from me, so I'd rather not waste both our time."

"I'm not..." Severus's mouth was very dry. "I don't think you're-" He breathed deeply. The criticism stung, but it also felt more genuine than anything Makepeace had said to him before. "When you first offered to teach me, I thought I'd be learning advanced curses and obscure magic. The sort of enchantments that you would not show the regular class. The... _stuff _you were teaching me..."

Makepeace leaned forward. "Severus. You already know more advanced curses and obscure magic than the rest of the sixth years combined. Invented some as well, I don't doubt. I've been trying to teach you skills you'd never pick up in a book – stuff it's taken me decades to learn."

Severus snorted. "All that _footwork _and _chi_ and _posture?_ "When is it going to come in handy?"

"Anybody can memorise a bunch of spells and throw them at somebody," said Makepeace. "You're not anybody."

The compliment – coming in the midst of so much criticism – fortified Severus for what he needed to say next.

"You act so bloody superior all the time!" he burst out. "It's annoying. And you laugh at me, all the time. I can't help it that I don't know all these stupid facts that you store. But you act like I'm an idiot, and I'm _not." _He glared at Makepeace, trying to think of a sharp way to end his speech. "Just don't... don't laugh at me, all right?" he finished, lamely. Severus had been laughed at all his life, and he was tired of it.

Makepeace lifted his hand. "I promise that I will never laugh at you. Unless you want me to."

"You're doing it again," he said, frustrated. "You're always mocking me."

"I'm not," said Makpeace, affronted. "This is just the way I am. Just like you're always a grouchy git. It's our nature."

"I'm not grouchy," muttered Severus.

Makepeace looked as though he were about to laugh, and then caught himself just in time. Severus frowned. He supposed he was angry a lot of the time, but that was because a lot of people made him angry. He'd never been grouchy with Lily. How could he have been? He suddenly missed her so terribly that it felt like a physical ache in his chest. He wanted to run to Gryffindor tower and beg for her forgiveness... But he'd already done that, and she'd refused him. They'd chosen their sides for all time now, and there was no going back.

"Can I please be tutored by you again?" he said, returning his gaze to his shoes. "I'm sorry I said those things."

Makepeace hesitated, and then smiled. "Of course you can," said his professor, and Severus felt relief flood through him. "Next Monday? Or we can have a lesson this evening if you'd like."

Snape thought he may as well see Makepeace sooner rather than later. That way, he could have a letter ready for Lucius by the end of the week. No-one needed to know that he'd dropped out of the classes at all!

"Today, I guess," he said. He suddenly realised that he would have to troupe all the way back down to dinner and then up here again. Even if the room did open on the bottom floor, as it sometimes did, he would still have to walk all the way back to return to it. He was glad he wasn't a Gryffindor. They had to make this walk every day.

"Tell you what," said Makepeace, as though he had read Severus's mind. "Why don't I call for supper up here? It'll save you walking down all those stairs again. Are you hungry?"

Severus realised that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since dinner the previous night. Besides, he _did_ want to avoid the stairs. Perhaps, having dinner with a professor wasn't so strange if they were tutoring you. Slughorn had invited him to dinner once or twice before it had become painfully obvious that he was never going to amount to anything.

More importantly, speaking with Makepeace would give him some practice in his new duties.

"Yes," said Severus

"Pansy," said Makepeace, and for a bizarre moment Severus thought the professor was speaking to him. A moment later, however, a wizened old house-elf appeared with a crack.

"Mister Professor is wanting some dinner?" she asked, in a creaky voice. "For two?"

"Yes please," said Makepeace. "Severus, what do you feel like?"

Severus couldn't think of anything, so he shrugged.

"Right," said Makepeace. "Two serves of shepherd's pie, two serves of treacle tart and one flagon of pumpkin juice. Thank-you, Pansy."

The house-elf gave a delighted curtsy, and vanished.

"Why do you speak to them like that?" asked Severus. He hadn't had much experience with house-elves, but this was certainly not the way Lucius treated his.

Makepeace frowned, slightly. "They are sentient creatures."

"Barely. They're completely moronic."

"Intelligence comes in many forms. Anyway, it doesn't matter. They can still suffer, and they do."

"The sheep that made the pie suffered," said Severus. "You'd hardly say please and thank you to that."

"Hmm. Perhaps I should have ordered Ratatouille instead. I can still change it, if you'd like."

Severus shrugged. "I don't care about the sheep or the house elf, that's all."

"I know that Hagrid tends to the school's flock with great compassion."

"I said, I don't care about the sheep."

Makepeace stretched out. "If there's one very important lesson I've learned in life, Severus, it's never to underestimate or under-appreciate house-elves. When you get down to it, sheep can be pretty dastardly little buggers too."

Snape scowled. "Why do the centaurs not like you?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"I think they explained it pretty well. You'll understand in time."

This was the sort of enigmatic answer he'd become to expect from the professor. There was no point pressing the matter. Instead, the conversation continued on to more interesting subjects. By the time the shepherd's pie arrived, they were talking about magic. In particular, they discussed Dark Magic. Makepeace seemed genuinely interested in Severus's opinions on the subject.

"I just don't see the difference between the two 'brands' of magic," he said, buttering a slice of bread. "It's far too simplistic to say that _all_ these spells are bad and evil, and all _these _spells are good and pure. Who makes that distinction?"

"A good question!" said Makepeace. "And I see your point. Even the simplest mundane charm can be used for evil reasons. When I was working as an Auror, I once worked on a case where someone had used the _scourgify_ charm on the inside of someone else's stomach. I don't know if you've ever seen what soap does to the human digestive tract but-"

Severus pulled a face, and put down the piece of bread he was about to take a bite out of.

"And yet, that charm is not considered Dark. So, why make the distinction?" Makepeace paused, as though waiting for an answer.

"I asked you the question, sir," Severus said. He wanted to ask about Makepeace's time as an Auror, but he also was enjoying the conversation.

"Right. I thought you might have come up with an answer by now. Why do you _think_ people divide the spells into two groups?"

"People like to categorise things," said Severus, a hint of disdain in his voice. "It's easy to say things are bad and evil, just if they don't conform to their world-view."

"Hmm, perhaps." Makepeace looked thoughtful.

"What do you think, Sir?"

"I don't know if I believe in the distinction between light and dark magic any-more. I believe there are powerful spells in our world. If used incorrectly, they can cause terrible damage. And there are _selfish _spells: magic so inherently _self __centred_ that it should never be cast by anyone."

"Like Horcruxes," said Severus. He wanted to impress Makepeace with his knowledge. The effect it had on his professor was quite unpredictable, however. The man stood up, suddenly, looking at Severus with fear in his face. He leaned forward, and gripped his shoulders.

"Where did you hear that word?" he asked. The tone of their conversation, which had been light and humorous a moment before, had been replaced with a terrible urgency. Severus looked down, to avoid looking at the man's disfigured face too closely. "Where, Severus."

"I read about it in the library," he muttered.

"No you didn't. _Where._"

Severus looked up, unwillingly. Makepeace's right eye stared into nothingness, as always. His left eye was narrowed behind its monocle in deep concern.

"I read about it in one of my mother's books," he said, calmly. "She has a number of books on dark subjects, which she inherited from her own mother."

Makpeace sank bank into his chair, looking greatly relieved. "What ever you do," he said, "Don't mention that to anyone else. Not at Hogwarts, or outside it, do you understand me?"

Severus frowned. "Why not?"

Makepeace gave a heavy sigh. "There are people who would... hurt you, if they knew you knew about... those things. It's _not _a good idea to go blabbing about them. Do you promise that you won't mention it to anyone?

"All right," he said, shrugging Makepeace's hand off his shoulder. "I promise won't." He took a small bite of treacle tart, and then set the rest aside. "Shouldn't we be getting on with my lesson?" It was nearly eight.

"Oh," said Makepeace. "I thought this _was_ the lesson."

Snape blinked. "Ri-ight," he said. He got to his feet, picking up his bag. "Can I go then?"

"Sure," said Makepeace. "And Severus?"

Severus turned, about to descend the staircase.

"Thank-you for coming to speak with me. I don't feel like you would have done it a few weeks ago. Next week we can... we can focus on something you want to learn more, if you like."

And that was that. He left the room with a heavy heart. His first step towards being a spy was complete, but he didn't feel very happy about it. Still, he'd done what the Dark Lord had asked. He was heading up in the world.

* * *

_Hey guys, thanks for reading! Hi to all my new readers and followers: I appreciate your comments and faves!_

_There may be a delay before the next chapter, as I am going back to school after being on holiday. _**The Prince and the Professor**_ will return with _**Chapter 6: The Other Lily.**


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